


Letters to Tevinter

by katerinafm



Series: Letters to Tevinter [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drama, Fluff, M/M, NSFW, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:52:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3726067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katerinafm/pseuds/katerinafm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian leaves his Amatus behind in order to make things better in Tevinter, but once a few years pass and he decides to come back, will everything be just as he had left it?  </p><p>Note: This was written before the Trespasser DLC was released, so some things here don't match up with what is said to happen in the game anymore. </p><p>This work can be read independently, but is considered a sequel to 'Not what you'd expect'. </p><p>Main story is done, but bonus chapters will be added!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Though this can technically be read independently, I do recommend reading the (two) chapters of 'Not what you'd expect' that you can find in the 'Letters to Tevinter' series (and especially if you want some more sexy stuff or fluff ;D ). It will give you a much better understanding of the relationship between the Inquisitor here and Dorian. 
> 
> So this is the fic I've been meaning to write about these two for a long time, and now that I finally finished the game with them and had some free time, decided to go and write about it.
> 
> Here is the link if you're lazy like me: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3106139/chapters/6729650
> 
> Here are two pics of Harold Trevelyan for your viewing pleasure and to be able to picture him better if you wish: http://i111.photobucket.com/albums/n144/katerinafm/game/Haroldlove_zps5ae3ce88.png  
> http://i111.photobucket.com/albums/n144/katerinafm/game/1991a82e-fb86-4e72-9b0d-87e17b7875fe_zpsd83bb20c.png  
> Alternative links:  
> http://sta.sh/025qvhkkdnge  
> http://sta.sh/02fb5ujbouzv
> 
> Enjoy!

Dorian POV

 

 

Tevinter. Oh, how long he had wanted to come back. How much he had missed it, the smells, the weather, the culture that he used to think normal only to see how different it was in the South…and now he was finally there, after what had seemed like an eternity, maybe more!

…Except, not really. It hadn’t felt like much time had passed after all. At first he was homesick, it’s true. He had dreaded every day he spent in the cold climates of the South, each place seemingly colder than the next. But then, something changed. He met someone that made the wait to go back a lot more bearable. And suddenly, when it was time for him to finally make his way back home, a part of him was surprised to hope that he could stay for a little while longer.

Technically, nothing was stopping him from staying either. He was a free man, in every sense of the word, and could do as he chose. But he had made a promise to himself. He had promised to himself that he’d go back and try to change things. After he had seen all those new history-altering information in the Temple of Mythal, after all the accomplishments his- the inquisitor had done with an ease that would leave the best of strategists in awe…he had to try and do the same. His pride wouldn’t let him abandon his quest. In a relatively short amount of time, the inquisitor had ended a rebellion, a civil war, oh, and yes, stopped the end of the world. In comparison, what Dorian wanted to do shouldn’t be that difficult at all.

 

It hadn’t been easy, leaving. He had made friends, met people that he’d miss interacting with…and he’d met his Amatus. The fact alone that he’d call him ‘Amatus’ casually in his head without flinching was proof enough of his importance. Leaving him was the hardest part of all. It was embarrassing how often he had lied in his arms back then and thought that redeeming his homeland didn’t HAVE to be his task alone. It was as if a demon’s call was beckoning him to sit back, let others do all the work, and allow himself to get lost in the pleasure of just staying by his lover’s side for just a little while longer. But, like any good mage, he knew to resist temptation. No matter how great. No matter how many times his brain came up with the most convincing arguments as to why there wasn’t any harm with staying. But in the end, he did leave. His pride had won. Another demon all on its own.

 

And now, it had been five years. Five years back in Tevinter. Five years away from his Amatus. Five years without the Trevelyan’s jokes, his smiles, his touch…Five years of his inquisitor sending him letters and he…never replying back.

Of course, it wasn’t as simple as that. It’s not as if Dorian casually threw aside Harold’s letters and dismissed replying to his correspondence. No, of course not. But Dorian knew something Harold did not. He knew that as soon as he’d put the quill down and start replying to him, his resolve would break down. He’d want to come back. He’d take the first ship out of Tevinter, and run back to his waiting Amatus’ arms. Not doing that by just reading his lover’s letters was hard enough. So, he simply didn’t write him back. Even when the letters kept coming. Even when the letters came more sparingly. And even when they stopped entirely, around four years later. Even though part of him was hurting and missing him terribly, and even dared to be angry when the letters stopped. But was he angry at Harold, or at himself? He knew he had invited this turn of events. He was the one not writing after all. But now that he hadn’t had even one letter from him in so long…he was going insane.

The fact that his trip back home seemed to have been pointless made their separation all the more painful. Because, unfortunately, the Tevinter folk were still as stuck up as he remembered them. He had arrived with such high hopes, so many expectations, and yet no matter how loudly he argued, how much he tried to apply pressure in the right places, any progress he’d make would get overshadowed with the opinions of the many. The ones that were still set on believing the wrong and convenient things. Even though he had found supporters and people that listened, their influence and help could only get him so far. It was simply not working out. And that was killing him. He had wanted to make a difference, just like the Inquisition had. He wanted to be the voice of change, ANY change. He had wanted all this hurt he had put himself through to have meant something.

And of course Harold had originally offered his help; of the entire inquisition, and his personal one. He had been almost too understanding of what Dorian had to do. And of course, Dorian had refused, because he was set on succeeding on his own. But after years of failure after failure, of tiny steps of progress being stomped by giant steps that took him right back to where he started, he cursed the day he refused the inquisition’s help. He cursed the day that he had told Harold that he shouldn’t come with him. Oh, how much he missed that man. He would have charmed the entire magisterium in a week, tops.

 

Right now, he was just tired. Now that the letters had stopped coming, he was alone. No matter how much he drank, how many insignificant one night stands he’d take to his bed, it changed nothing. He had failed, and he was more of a fool for it. He had left the most important man of his life, the only one that had ever cared for him, and for what?

“Kaffas,” he grunted to himself, slamming a book shut and pouring himself some more of his favorite brandy in his mug. Trust him to get lost into thoughts of self-pity while he was supposed to be researching ancient Tevinter slave laws. And that was just some light reading to take a break from the heavy stuff. He sighed and rubbed between his eyebrows. He looked around the dusty room he was in that served as his library and study. There were hundreds of books stacked on top of each other, and dozens of others open to specific pages that he had instructed his servants not to touch under any circumstances. There were years of research and papers with hastily written findings and thoughts on how he could convince others. But under the dim light of his table lamp, and under the influence of his mood and alcohol, right now they just looked…sad. He drank some more of his brandy and stood up.

How long had it been without Harold sending word? Five months? Six? He walked out of the study, and went to his bedroom next door. A much cleaner and neatly tied room, since the servants had no instructions on keeping it alone and untouched, unlike his study. He walked up to a drawer next to his bed and opened it, mug still in his free hand. He knew that he shouldn’t do this. It was only going to make him ache more. But he was already thinking about him anyway. Might as well go all the way.

He took out a thick stack of letters, neatly tied up with a string. Each was opened and closed multiple times, yet cared for as to not fade the words on the papers. He walked back to his study, his feet dragging along until he sat back down on his favorite chair that he had brought back from Skyhold. He cleared his throat, as if about to do a speech, and pulled out the top most letter from the pile. The last one Harold had ever sent. He knew that one well. He bit his lip and opened it. Might as well start with the hardest one since he was feeling self-destructive today anyway. He started reading.

 

_Dear Dorian,_

_I apologize for my previous letter, though it’s been almost a year now since I sent it. I had had a couple of drinks at the tavern with the guys and wrote to you without thinking. By the time I realized what I had written the messenger had already left. Pay my words no mind._

_I’ve decided that this will be my last letter to you. It’s time, and I’m sure you have better things to do._

_I hope you are doing well. I hope you got what you came for. I hope you are happy._

_~~I’m going to~~ _

_Goodbye,_

_Harold Trevelyan._

 

Each time he read the letter, Dorian had wanted to tear it up and throw it away in the trash. His hands were almost shaking as he recalled how he felt when he first read the letter. It hurt him to see how much Harold’s stance had changed. Even though it was a small letter, he could see it. Harold had finally given up on him. To say that this wasn’t how the first letters were written would be an understatement. The first letters Dorian had received from Harold were filled with passion, hope of a reunion sometime soon, and fresh hurt at their separation that mirrored his own. But Dorian had invited that last letter by never responding to him and by forcing himself to stay strong for his work. He regretted it terribly.

He traced over the crossed out line on the letter. ‘ _I’m going to_ ’. Going to what? He had pondered that many times. But there was no use in wondering now, was there?

He took another large gulp of his brandy and refilled the mug. He took a deep breath and looked at the rest of the pile of letters before deciding on doing some more reading. Now this was going to hurt even more.

He put the last letter aside carefully before he picked the previous one out of the string and opened it. This was the letter Harold had claimed to have written while drunk. But Dorian knew that that letter held far more truth than most of the others. He started reading again.

 

_Dorian,_

_It’s been a while again. How are you doing? ~~I’m just~~_

__

The rest of the letter seemed to have a much sloppier penmanship, as if the first couple of sentences were written at a completely different point in time.

 

_I don’t understand, Dorian. I don’t get it. I thought I did but now I’m just wondering. Why haven’t you replied to any of my letters? You know how much I miss you. I don’t understand. Was it always just me? I wish you’d just reply to me just once to let me know if you’re even still alive. Are you laughing right now? I know, it’s stupid. I’m pining like a stupid wife waiting for her husband to come back from the war. It’s been so long. I’m so angry with you. If you were here right now I don’t know what I’d do. I wish you’d reply to me just once and just tell me I’m a moron to allow me to let you go._

_Should I have tried harder to stop you from leaving, is that what I should have gotten out of this? I know you used to love me. Sometimes I wonder if I just imagined all that. Did you use blood magic on me? At least then it’d make more sense why you’re not replying to me._

_Just tell me you don’t care._

_I don’t care if I sound pathetic. I don’t care if you’re reading this aloud in the nearest tavern right now while having a bunch of laughs. I’ve always been sincere in my feelings for you. You always knew what I felt. You had told me you’d come back but, I guess you were lying, weren’t you? You were just saying what I wanted to hear, or wanted to make the goodbye easier. It’s not easy for me now. Part of me is still waiting and it’s making me sick. I hate you for that. I don’t care if that makes me childish. But I hate knowing that I’m here, still missing you while you’re probably out there struggling to remember the name of that inquisitor you used to fuck. I guess I should have figured it out from the beginning. Good for you then. Broke the mighty inquisitor’s heart and lived to tell the tale._

_Hope this Tevinter business was fucking worth it you ~~stupid~~ ass._

_Maker help me, I still love you. Please come back._

_Harold._

Dorian sniffled a bit once he finished re-reading the letter that was sent over three years after he had left. Harold was always an…intense drunk. All that smooth composure he’d have, all that charming noble appearance was reduced to this rambling letter after who knows how many drinks. He didn’t know if the Iron Bull was still a part of the inquisition, but it was very likely that he had a hand in getting Harold this drunk.

But Dorian knew that those words were true. He could see how much Harold was hurting. And he hated himself for it. Because of his selfishness he was doing more harm to Harold than good. He could have written him a short letter to tell him it was over at any time so Harold could have moved on. He could have even made one of the servants write it to make it even easier. But he didn’t, did he? Because he was selfish, and part of him didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want it to be over either.

And then almost a year later, Harold’s final letter came, and the decision was out of Dorian’s hands. And Dorian was the fool all along.

Dorian looked over the letter, reading certain lines over and over again.

‘ _I_ _still love you_ ’.

 _’Please come back’_.

‘ _How much I miss you’_.

When that letter first came, he had been shamelessly crying in his study while drinking for what seemed like hours. Even after more than three years away from each other, he still loved his Amatus greatly. But back then, it felt like more work needed to be done. He thought he still had a chance, and had ideas as to what he should do next for Tevinter. But now, there wasn’t even that anymore. Now there was nothing holding him here.

As he finished the bottle of brandy, he wondered to himself if he could actually go back. He placed the mug down on his desk with more force that was needed, and pulled out the very first letter Harold had sent. Sent almost five years ago now, and read more times than Dorian could count.

 

_Dear Dorian,_

_I haven’t sent a letter to Tevinter before, so I don’t know when this will reach you, but I hope it doesn’t take too long. Have you settled in already? I hope your chair arrived safely, or I’m guessing some sailors got an earful from you. Please be gentle on them._

_Things have been hectic here. Josephine seems to want to drown me in diplomacy talks with other noble houses, and Leliana wants to assassinate everything as per usual. Shit, she is probably reading this. My sincerest apologies, Leliana, please don’t assassinate me too. Cullen is doing good as well. Our forces are looking stronger than ever._

_You’d think closing the breach would allow me a break now, but now that everyone is not busy fighting demons they’re busy thinking of themselves. I wish you were here to see the Orlesian nobles that have gathered in Skyhold to meet me. I know you love to criticize them almost as much as Varric._

_But let me guess, you’ve already settled everything back home and are ready to come back. Or maybe they asked you to become the next Black Divine? Are Divines supposed to be celibate? Please refuse the offer if so._

_I apologize, but it’s been over a week since you’ve been gone and I’m feeling the effects. I miss waking up next to you. I miss kissing you. I miss touching you. I miss…let’s just say we have a lot of catching up to do when you come back. That, I promise._

_I’m writing this in-between meetings so I better keep this short. I expect a full report on how coming back to Tevinter has been, and what you’re wearing. The offer for me to drop everything and come see for myself still stands. I’m sure the inquisition can survive a few weeks without me._

_Your Amatus,_

_Harold Trevelyan._

 

Dorian swallowed, reading over the passionate words. He wanted that Harold back, now more than ever. Now that he had faced defeat, all he wanted was to crawl back to his Amatus and hear him laugh again. Touch him again. Oh, how much he missed his handsome face.

 

Could he go back? Should he? Why not? What was stopping him? He stood up in a rush of adrenaline, letter still in hand. He was actually seriously considering it now. He could go back. Back to Harold. Back to his inquisitor. Maybe he could actually make a difference with the inquisition’s help now that he had gone back to his senses and could accept their help.

Regardless, it was far too late into the night to make any decisions, not to mention any decision he’d make now would be influenced by the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed. So he decided to go sleep it off and see how he felt in the morning.

 

When he woke up the next morning with a hangover, yet with just as much need to leave as before, he made plans to set off immediately. In a couple of days he was ready to go, and after sending a quick missive to Skyhold, he got on the next ship back. The servants that helped him get ready were as much confused as he was excited. This would be either the best, or worst rush decision of his life.

_I’m coming back._

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Of course, Dorian had thought up of an excuse. Him showing up out of the blue would be odd, to say the least. So he sent word to Leliana, telling her that he is coming in person to get the Inquisition’s help in Tevinter matters. Sounded reasonable enough. Not desperate at all. He hoped.

 

The journey back seemed to take years, though it was actually just a few weeks. His stomach was in knots, and doubt clouded his thoughts the more he sat on the ship that took him back. His decision was rushed, it was true. And it had been a long time. He had dreamt of coming back multiple times, but now that he was actually doing it after all this time…it was different. Would everything be the same as he left it? Surely the Inquisition had been doing well without him there. Even though far away, word of the inquisition’s power had made its way even to Tevinter. Made people nervous, which he guessed was just what the Inquisition wanted.

Would Harold look the same? Dorian was, or at least he thought so. He had attempted to see what he’d look like with a short ponytail by letting his hair grow, but eventually decided to go back to his old look. Why change an already good thing after all?

Would Dorian be unable to contain himself and just start stripping Harold of his clothing right then and there? Re-reading those early letters that were filled with Harold’s lustful words had left him a bit wanting, but of course, he was nothing if not discreet.

 

Of course, things would not be as simple as that. He should have tempered his expectations.

 

Once the ship arrived at the docks, he went to rent a horse with all haste, starting his trip towards Skyhold with his heart almost constantly pounding in his chest. The climate was as cold as he remembered it, but he didn’t care this time. It took him a couple of days, with many stops at tiny villages and inns with people that looked at him sideways when they’d realize he was from Tevinter. In the end, he finally arrived, exhausted and exhilarated in front of Skyhold’s gates that were open as a sign of good will to all travelers. A sign of peacetime.

 

A recruit seemed to be waiting for him, and eagerly took the horse from him once he dismounted in order to take it to the stables to get taken care of after the long journey. It had seemed his missive had arrived in time, and they had calculated when he’d arrive with precision. Dorian started walking further inside, almost holding his breath as he looked around the courtyard for any signs of one particular person.

But the only person he recognized was Lady Montilyet, who approached with her usual liveliness that he remembered. She smiled politely when she saw him, and he smiled back, a bit distractedly as he looked around once more. No sign of him.

“Sir Pavus, it is good to see you again after so long,” Josephine said, accompanied with a polite bow. He laughed.

“Surely there is no need for such formalities, Lady Montilyet!” he said, though he made a formal bow as well.

“We do love our formalities,” she smiled, “Leliana got your letter just in time,” she started walking further in the courtyard, and Dorian accompanied her, aware that a few of Skyhold’s servants had already taken his things to put away. Everything seemed calmer now. Not as many dirty tents as he remembered, but more shops, and more people in the inquisition’s uniform walking about.

“Yes, I apologize for the haste. It was a last minute decision,” he kept looking around as a wave of disappointment hit him. Where was the inquisitor? Away on business? Had he not gotten his letter?

“So I imagine. We haven’t gotten word from you in so long!” Josephine said, and Dorian glanced at her, wondering if her words were meant to have more weight than they appeared.

“Ah, yes, you know how it is. Tevinter is a busy place. Magisters, blood sacrifices of young children, the usual,” he joked, earning a light sigh from her.

“Please refrain from making these jokes around the recruits. Some won’t recognize who you are.”

“Don’t worry, this isn’t my first trip to the South, remember? I’ll make sure the inquisition is unstained,” he said lightly, used to the assumptions everyone not from Tevinter would casually make about him. The remarks would practically slide off him without effect now.

They walked up the large rocky stairs and into the main building, and Dorian recognized the familiar large room decorated with comfortable, yet expensive, furniture fit to serve dozens of people at once. The throne was still placed in the same spot as it was five years ago, only now it looked more intimidating than he remembered it. But still, no Harold in sight.

“And where is our Lord Inquisitor? Off saving the world again?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could, gesturing around the room casually. Josephine tilted her head slightly as they reached her office.

“The inquisitor is a busy man, as you probably already know. He’s been informed of your arrival, of course. I’m sure he will offer his sincerest apologies for not being here to welcome you himself once he arrives back from his errands,” she sat on her desk once they went inside, and Dorian narrowed his eyes a bit. How formal. Her words appeared the same she’d use on any visiting noble that would come to Skyhold. Maybe she even helped Trevelyan write his final letter to him too. Had it come to this?

“I see.”

“Your room should be ready by now. It is the same one you used before. Please inform me if you need anything. Leliana should also be available, should you need her for anything, and our libraries are at your disposal to entertain yourself while you wait,” she said as she took out her papers and wrote down busily.

“My, you must be quite busy,” Dorian commented, crossing his arms on his chest. He felt unwelcome, despite Josephine sounding as pleasant as ever.

“Oh, you have no idea. But we wouldn’t have it any other way, of course,” she smiled slightly as she kept scribbling down. Dorian shuffled his feet a bit.

“And how is the inquisitor?” he asked, in a more serious tone this time. He hoped his words would go through Josephine’s diplomacy. With how she looked at him once she set her papers back down, it appeared they did.

“He is well,” she said, more serious in turn, “You will see him yourself, soon enough,” Dorian almost scoffed at the response.

“That doesn’t tell me much.”

“I wouldn’t want to interfere in the inquisitor’s personal matters,” she said, sounding understanding. Dorian sighed. He knew that Josephine and Harold were friends, but it looked like Josephine still paid attention to Harold’s title and respected the chain of command.

“Very well, keep your secrets,” he said lightly, feeling mildly annoyed. He made a little bow to leave, and turned around.

“Sir Pavus, please be careful,” Josephine almost called out before he reached the door. He raised his eyebrows and turned around.

“I am a big boy.”

“I wasn’t referring to your well-being. I was referring to his,” Josephine said matter-of-factly, making Dorian get taken aback by her sudden change of tone. He realized now how he must appear. He did decide to visit out of nowhere, and if Josephine knew the situation from Harold’s point of view, then all she knew was that he had never sent the inquisitor any letters. He fought back the urge to defend himself to her and simply nodded instead. This wasn’t her business after all. This was between him and the Inquisitor.

  


Two days. Two entire days! If he knew he’d have to wait around for so long for the inquisitor to decide to show up, he wouldn’t have needed to get sore from riding and travelling with such haste. By the time he heard some recruits talk about Harold’s arrival, he was annoyed and not to mention, bored. The inquisition’s large, -yet still limited compared to his own collection-, library did little to make the wait more bearable.

He set the book he had been reading back to its rightful place, and looked out the window of the library that gave a good view of Skyhold’s entrance. He squinted his eyes as he tried to make out Harold among them by trying to spot the familiar blonde hair. But, though he saw a figure that was obviously the ‘leader’ of the group that had come in through the gates, it had a hood on, and Dorian swallowed as he realized that it was probably him. He took a deep breath and stood up straight, starting to make his way down towards the main hall. Josephine had told him that Harold knew he was there, so him appearing shouldn’t be a surprise. He considered playing hard to get and nonchalant by staying in the library and waiting for Harold to come to him instead, but it wasn’t as if they had just met. They were past that now. Or so Dorian remembered.

He forced himself to look as composed and casual as possible, arriving at the main hall and watching all the new arrivals spread out once they were in. He recognized Leliana coming to the hooded figure’s side as soon as it appeared, sharing some papers and talking to one another without any pleasantries exchanged. Dorian moved forward until he could see the inquisitor clearly. He practically recognized the body, even though it was covered in a new set of armor he hadn’t seen before. Once the inquisitor slid the hood that was covering his head down, Dorian’s breathing almost stopped.

Harold’s face looked the same as he remembered it, with the golden locks of hair now revealed and only mildly out of place from the hood covering them just seconds ago. There was just one big difference that made Dorian raise his eyebrows even more. Harold now had a beard, short and well-trimmed, yet completely different from the light stubble he used to have. It wasn’t a shocking or unpleasant change, but Dorian had never imagined him with this amount of facial hair before. He looked just a bit more mature now, and the noble air he used to have was now accompanied with an air of authority that made him stand out amongst everyone else in the hall even more.

Apparently, Harold would look good like that too. Very good. So good that Dorian had to remind himself that he was supposed to approach in order to be noticed. He cleared his throat a bit, composing himself and walking with confidence until their eyes met.

“Dorian.”

Harold started walking towards him, and Dorian felt his heart skip a beat.

Until Harold extended a hand to greet him, as if he was a stranger.

“It’s been a long time,” Harold said with a polite smile that almost mirrored Josephine’s. Dorian was so taken aback that it took him a second before he smiled and shook his hand back.

“Lord inquisitor! It has, hasn’t it?” he forced the smile to stay on his face, though his stomach sank.

“Indeed. What brings you back in the South?” Harold took his hand back, and took some papers that a recruit had discreetly passed him along while they were shaking hands. Their eyes broke contact.

“I just couldn’t stay away. The cold climate was too good not to revisit,” Dorian said, earning a small laugh from Harold. What was this? This was insulting. As if Dorian couldn’t tell when Harold wasn’t being sincere in his smiles and laughs after all this time. He’d heard him use the same laughing tone when talking to nobles with him present before.

“Came to your senses, did you?” Harold seemed to tease. Now that at least, was familiar. But somehow, still not the same. The air around him, the way he spoke…it was cold.

“I figured it was time for a visit,” Dorian played along. Two could play at that game.

“Leliana tells me you are requesting the inquisition’s assistance,” Harold started walking towards the war room. Dorian cleared his throat before he followed. This was the second time since he got here that he felt unwelcome. But this time it hurt much more than the last.

“Yes. I’ve done great progress back home,” he started lying, “But I think it’s time for something more. My perfect looks and brains can only get me so far without an army backing me up,” he looked at Harold, who was walking by his side, yet not looking at him. He observed his profile; the broken nose he had kissed countless of times, the light freckles adorning his cheeks, the striking green eyes he’d get lost in whenever they looked at him with adoration…all that was still there, yet felt hidden somehow. Unfortunately it didn’t look like it was just the beard.

“I would have expected you to be the ruler of Tevinter by now. What happened?” Harold opened the door to the war room and got inside with Dorian following behind while trying to figure out what to say. ‘ _I failed miserably’_? ‘ _I should have accepted your help when you offered and I’m an idiot that wants you back_ ’? Neither sounded good.

“Us Vints are stubborn. What can I say? Besides, I could never stomach being the ruler of Tevinter. I’d rather do without the constant assassination contracts on my life,” he watched Harold start working on the war table, gathering small missives set under chess pieces and moving them around. He looked busy. Too busy for him.

“I’m sure Leliana and Josephine can help. They have a lot of connections,” Harold said, standing up straight once he was seemingly done.

“…Harold…” Dorian couldn’t gather the courage to say anything. He didn’t expect this welcome. This was so much different from how he pictured it in his head.

“Don’t worry, Dorian. I had promised that I’d help you if you needed it. With Josephine’s connections and Leliana’s resources, I’m sure we’ll get it done before you’re missed back home,” Harold stopped him before he could say more, and Dorian took a frustrated breath. That wasn’t even the reason he had travelled back! Why was Harold acting like this? And missed by whom? His family? Now that was a laugh.

“Brilliant,” he could only say. Harold nodded distractedly and started walking back out towards the exit.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some things I need to do. Leliana should be available for you,” Dorian wanted to throw one of the pieces from on top of the war table and throw it at the Inquisitor’s head.

“Surely!” he started, making Harold pause and turn around to look at him. Dorian couldn’t back away now. If he allowed things to continue like this then his whole trip had been for nothing. He didn’t like this re-occurring theme of him and pointless trips.

“You can make some time to have a drink with an old friend? We have so much to discuss,” he said, and the word ‘friend’ felt like poison in his mouth. Harold seemed to think for a minute before he smiled politely.

“Of course. We can have a drink at the tavern tonight.”

 

 

Dorian felt sick. From disappointment? Frustration? The stupid cold weather? He wasn’t sure. But he didn’t like it. Reading Harold’s final letter and seeing the cold and professional tone it had was one thing. But to actually see Harold treating him like this was an entirely new thing. He felt like he was being played. What did Harold think, that they should pretend that they had never met before now? That they had never made love? That they were really just old acquaintances? If it was anyone else, Dorian wouldn’t have a problem with that. He was from Tevinter after all; pretending was every noble’s favorite pastime. But this was the Inquisitor. His Amatus. It wasn’t the same.

Maybe talking over drinks would make things better and clear the air. At least then Harold wouldn’t have business to hide behind. This was so different from how he remembered it. The Inquisitor he remembered preferred to get things over quickly, charm the nobles with a few smiles rather than sit behind paperwork. Was this how he was now, or was he just avoiding him? A lot could change in five years but…he didn’t like this.

The tavern was exactly the same as he remembered it, except the Chargers and The Bull weren’t hanging around like they used to. Now it had regular patrons, recruits and Skyhold’s staff enjoying the music a pleasant sounding bard was playing. He could swear he heard some suspicious whispers and lowered voices once he walked in, but he ignored it as he walked upstairs with his head held high.

The tables upstairs allowed for more privacy, and far fewer people were hanging about than downstairs. Once he noticed Harold sitting on one of the tables, he took a deep breath. Harold didn’t notice him at first, appearing lost in thought as he looked out the window next to the table. Dorian observed him, the hair that was now properly groomed, the soft lantern light that lit his face up and complimented his features…Dorian shook his head and forced himself to focus. Admiring the inquisitor from afar wouldn’t get him very far. He started walking towards the table until Harold looked his way, and smiled.

“Already started without me?” he gestured to Harold’s mug that looked half empty.

“My apologies. What will you have?” Harold sat back and watched Dorian sit down opposite him. Dorian felt like he was being observed. That was good. He was still confident in his appearance. And he remembered fondly how much Harold seemed to appreciate it too.

“Something warm would be nice. The cold is starting to catch up to me. Maybe some mulled wine?” he beckoned one of the serving girls that was walking about over and gave her his order. The girl hurriedly nodded and went downstairs without as much as a word.

“So…” Dorian started as Harold took a sip from what he was drinking.

“How is…the inquisition? I hear great things,” Dorian leaned forward. He was glad that everyone else seemed to have preferred to stay downstairs for the night. Maybe they knew the inquisitor was planning on visiting and decided to give him some privacy. Either way, he felt more comfortable.

“I can’t complain,” Harold kept looking at him, and Dorian could barely keep his gaze away as well.

“I haven’t seen any of your companions hanging about,” Dorian gestured around with his hand for affect. Harold nodded.

“Most have moved on. Varric is in Kirkwall, Cassandra is Divine, as you know. Vivienne has gone back to the Circle…Bull is still here, but he’s out on work with the Chargers. Sera is also here…somewhere. Blackwall is with the Wardens…and Cole is also around, you know how he is” Harold said in-between sips of his drink. Dorian gratefully took his mulled wine once it arrived and ordered another. He felt tense, and desperately needed something to warm his bones and calm his nerves. He took a large gulp of the warm drink right away.

“Back to old habits?”

“What?” Dorian arched an eyebrow, confused at Harold’s remark.

“Never mind,” Harold took another sip. Dorian let it go, preoccupied with his task.

“Lots of things have changed,” Dorian noted.

“They have,” Harold countered seriously, and Dorian had no doubt that his words carried a lot of weight. Dorian could feel his confidence seeping away. He’d need much more wine for this.

 

 

“…So, as I’ve said, us Tevinters are stubborn fools,” Dorian concluded a couple of hours and more wine than he cared to count later. He had asked for a whole bottle this time, and poured some more into his glass casually. They were both visibly drunk, though Dorian had still not gathered the proper amount of courage to talk to Harold about them properly. Harold had loosened up a bit, talking about what had happened to the inquisition while Dorian was gone, but it was all superficial stuff that Dorian didn’t particularly care about hearing right now.

“You can scream, you can shout about Mythal, the elves…” Dorian mumbled, leaning his chin on his palm as he leant forward.

“But they just don’t listen. When I brought up slavery? Ha! Now that was a fun day,” he chuckled. Harold didn’t say anything, but Dorian could tell that he was listening to him intently. Dorian sighed lightly.

“You must think me a failure for coming back without much to show,” he admitted, hating himself for saying it right after. He was already contradicting himself from what he had said to Harold earlier.

“I don’t,” Harold said, not pointing out what Dorian was thinking. Dorian looked up from his drink, and noticed how close they had gotten after all the drinks had relaxed them. Dorian could see the details on Harold’s face now, though the alcohol was practically clouding his vision. He couldn’t help but look down to Harold’s lips. The urge to kiss them was almost too much.

“You don’t?” he asked instead, taking another gulp of his wine for courage.

“Why would I?” Harold shrugged his shoulders slightly, and Dorian licked his lips.

“…Inquisitor…you’re just as strapping as I remember you,” he said, and hopefully the added slurring didn’t make him sound less smooth. Harold looked a bit surprised at the remark, and brought a hand up to his facial hair.

“Well, I do have a beard now,” Harold joked, and Dorian laughed a bit, looking down for a second before back to him.

“It suits you.”

“Why, thank you,” Harold looked like he was trying to keep himself collected and not say anything back, but Dorian wouldn’t have that.

“I’ve been told I look just like my-” Dorian couldn’t help but interrupt him by leaning forward promptly and pressing their lips together in a firm kiss. He could barely keep his thoughts coherent from the alcohol, but Maker, was he glad he had done it. Feeling Harold’s lips against his again felt so good, even if the beard was new to the occasion.

He broke away after a few seconds, breath heavy and mirroring Harold’s. He went to greedily lean in again, but Harold stopped him half-heartedly by pressing a hand to his chest and gently pushing him back.

“We’re both very drunk,” he stated the obvious. Dorian leaned in more, unable to help himself.

“What better way to break the ice?” he asked in a whisper as he leaned in, and Harold’s resolve seemed to vanish as well as he gave in to the heated kiss.

 

 

The next morning, Dorian woke up in his bed at Skyhold. He squinted his eyes at the light of day that was coming in from his window, and brought a hand up to his aching head. He did remember last night, even though it felt more like a distant dream than an actual memory now, thanks to the alcohol. He remembered the passionate kiss Harold and him had exchanged, how Dorian could finally tangle his fingers through his hair again, and even touched his beard clumsily to see how it felt. He remembered how they had gotten so aroused by their kiss that they went to the back of the tavern, almost stumbling as they rushed to pleasure each other.

…He also remembered that the feat was over much quicker than he cared to admit, and that once they were done with their pants past their hips, panting and lightly sweating, Harold had told him to get some rest and left without another word after saying goodnight. Dorian had fixed himself up and had made his way back to his quarters, passing out on his bed soon after. The whole ordeal had been…not ideal, to say the least. It was over so quickly that Dorian felt like it didn’t even count. And Harold was…not the same. Yes, they were both so turned on that they couldn’t help themselves, and the sexual chemistry between them was still there but…it didn’t feel like it used to. Dorian should have felt nauseated for thinking so, but he felt like he didn’t get the chance to cherish being with Harold again. And that came from a man that until Harold, considered sex completely separate from any kind of sentiment. How the mighty had fallen. It was almost ridiculous, not to mention insulting!

 

But that conclusion hinted at something far worse. Harold was, evidently, shutting him out. His body was there, his hands and kisses still the same, but his mind was not. Dorian cursed himself. Maybe jumping at the chance to have sex with him again wasn’t the best choice from a strategic standpoint. No, next time, he’d have to talk to Harold. For real this time. No interruptions, no chickening out, and maybe with not so much wine.

He wanted Harold back. The real Harold. The one that made him laugh and would grin at him smugly. The one that held him the morning after and teased him. The one that looked at him as if he was the whole world. A few years ago and he’d laugh at the notion of thinking like this. But after all these years, after seeing what truly mattered to him, what really made him happy…he’d be a fool to let it go without a fight.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harold looks like the pics I gave at the beginning, only with a beard in the current timeline (imagine a bit shorter and as well groomed as Hawke's in DA2). The beards in DAI look way too messy for what I imagine Harold to actually have.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First flashback chapter. Unless specified otherwise like here (change of POV and point in time), all 'normal' chapters follow the current timeline from the first chapter and Dorian's point of view. Enjoy! ;*

 

**Harold Trevelyan’s POV**

**Five years ago.**

“I’m going back. To Tevinter.”

Harold blinked at Dorian’s words. This wasn’t what he was expecting to hear after coming back from a mission without him. He was only gone for a couple of days.

“…Is this payback for me not taking you along for the last trip to Val Royeaux?” he teased, hopeful that this was a joke.

“I’m serious,” Dorian said, and his face could leave no doubt. Harold felt his heart clench.

“What?” he asked in disbelief, raising his eyebrows.

“We knew this was going to happen eventually. We’ve talked about it, haven’t we?” Dorian looked conflicted.

“I know, but, I thought…” Harold started, collecting himself from the shock.

“I thought you had changed your mind about it?” he asked, trying to sound conversational rather than accusing.

“I had changed my mind about leaving after the business with the Breach was over but…I think it’s time,” Dorian looked down for a second before back at Harold sadly. Harold forced himself to put on a tiny smile.

“If you wanted to break up with me, Dorian, you didn’t need to move across the continent to do so,” he joked, taking a step towards him. Dorian laughed a bit, shaking his head and stepping forward too. He placed his hands on Harold’s shoulders, and Harold placed his on his waist affectionately.

“You know that’s not it,” Dorian said quietly, and Harold believed him. It had been over a year since Corypheus was dead and the end of the world wasn’t looming over their heads. They had just started to enjoy their relationship under more normal circumstances. The Inquisition’s power was steady and growing, and everything couldn’t be more ideal. Dorian and he were happy together. But it looked like there was always a timer and Trevelyan had ran out of time without realizing it.

“I will never forgive myself if I don’t continue what I set out to do,” Dorian explained, “I have to try and share what I learned back home. Try to make a difference,” he said passionately. Harold listened without interruption and watched him. He looked so endearing when he was excited.

“From the looks of it, it sounds like you want to do this alone,” Harold noted.

“Don’t get me wrong…each second away from you will give me no pleasure,” Dorian sighed, “But I can’t ask for your help. I won’t.”

“I know. You’re a stubborn man,” Harold smiled a bit. They had been over this before, a long while back. Dorian had been so shocked at what they had discovered at the Temple of Mythal. He was so shocked in fact that he had almost packed his bags and left for Tevinter as soon as they had gotten back from the trip. Harold had offered himself, and the help of the Inquisition instantly, but thankfully, Dorian had decided to stay for the time being. When Harold heard him say that he’d stay even after the Breach was closed, he was delighted. But now reality had to catch up to them, it seemed.

“I am, unfortunately,” Dorian admitted. Harold hated this with every fiber of his being. But he also _loved_ Dorian with every fiber of his being. He wanted him happy. He knew that this was very important to him.

“…I can help you secretly?”

“No,” Dorian laughed a bit at Harold’s teasing, even though the mood was far too gloomy for jokes.

“I know. Didn’t hurt to try,” Harold smiled at him affectionately once Dorian brought a hand to his face.

“Don’t think this means I’m letting you go, Amatus,” Dorian said, voice almost a whisper and full of emotion. Harold looked back at him, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze before they kissed. He could tell that Dorian’s mind was set up, regardless of what he thought. All he could do was give his support as much as possible.

 

The month that Dorian was getting his affairs in order so he could move back to Tevinter without any loose ends was one of the most conflicting in the Inquisitor’s life. He’d tried to be full of charming smiles for Dorian, and help him however he could. He didn’t want their last month together before he left to be filled with sad memories. He wanted Dorian to remember him fondly.

They would write to each other, of course. And the time before Dorian would come back would probably pass far faster than they anticipate due to how busy they’ll both be with their work. How long would it take for Dorian to share what he knew in Tevinter? A year, tops? Even so…Harold felt like he was being eaten alive inside. He couldn’t get enough of Dorian, and the thought of being apart from him left him anxious. But he wouldn’t show it. He didn’t want to make it more difficult for him.

Their last night together, they made love until they were both exhausted and spent, with both evidently thinking that their last time together should be as memorable as possible. Harold tried to memorize every inch of Dorian’s body to hold dear in his memory while he was gone. He kissed every bit of skin that he’d reveal under Dorian’s clothing, made him moan and cry in pleasure so much so he’d remember the sound with perfect clarity. When morning came and they had to leave for the docks, Harold had a hard time letting Dorian go from his arms after they awoke from their brief sleep. They had stayed in bed for as long as the limited time allowed them, and when they had to leave they had gotten dressed quietly and without much said.

 

They had exchanged few words on the trip over to the docks, but Harold was almost out of smiles for him and couldn’t do much else. It didn’t look like Dorian was in the mood for small talk either. Their mood was reflected in the cloudy sky that hid the sun behind it and the cold wind.

“Here we are,” Dorian said, looking like he was walking towards his death as they reached the ship and dismounted from their horses. Him looking sad made this even harder. Harold wanted to hold him and comfort him, but he was unsure if he’d be able to let go if he did so.

“Here we are,” Harold repeated, watching the crew carry all of Dorian’s things on the ship with quickness and efficiency.

“Amatus…” Dorian’s voice almost cracked, and Harold looked at him. They stared at each other, both looking like they were too overwhelmed to say anything or even touch each other. Harold felt bad for not comforting him better but right now, he just couldn’t will himself for fear his composure might shatter. They must have stood there for longer than he thought, because eventually they heard a member of the crew calling Dorian over so the ship could leave. Harold glanced at it before back at Dorian, who looked like he was practically in tears. He wanted to yell at him to stay with him, or let him go with him. But he didn’t want to make this any harder. He didn’t want to be the guy that made his lover stay out of guilt. He needed to respect Dorian’s choices.

“This is it,” Dorian took a deep breath, taking a step back slowly. Harold then realized that Dorian needed his help in order for him to leave. He braced himself before he spoke.

“You will be missed, Dorian,” he said meaningfully, gathering up the last bits of his energy to smile at him softly. Dorian didn’t look like he could muster a smile back, and instead stared at him for another long second before he practically stormed on the ship without looking back. Harold took a shaky breath and turned around, knowing that he couldn’t stay to watch the ship go.

 

 

He only allowed himself to break down in tears once he was back at Skyhold and to his quarters, that now felt agonizingly empty. Now all he had to do was wait.

 

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I was planning on having a flashback inserted into a 'normal' timeline chapter, but the flashbacks so far have turned out pretty long so most will be posted by themselves (however their order is intentional).
> 
> What did you think of Harold's point of view?? It felt so odd to be writing from his POV at first instead of Dorian's! 
> 
> Also I'm still open to prompts! Hope you liked and please let me know if there are any mistakes I missed :D!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to current timeline. So far each chapter switches back and forth between the present and a past flashback. I always specify the point in time each flasback takes place, but if you are confused please let me know!

 

**Dorian’s POV**

 

Getting Harold alone again was even harder than he had anticipated. He was always surrounded by people, flocking around him and trying to get his attention first. He remembered this happening even before he left. Only then Harold would avoid them most of the time if he could help it, usually while whining to Dorian about it adorably and asking him to hide him when it was getting too tiring. Even a man as charming and used to the way nobles worked as Harold would get overwhelmed after the hundredth meeting in a row.

Unfortunately it looked like Harold had no problem attending to the needs of whatever washed out noble asked of him rather than speak with Dorian again. Now Dorian knew that he was doing it on purpose. He was avoiding him, and Dorian would feel a knot form on the back of his throat whenever he considered that the Inquisitor was really trying to stay as far away from him as possible until he left for Tevinter again. The thought that he’d caused this was almost overwhelming. But even so, he had to try. That other night at the tavern, even though they were drunk and Dorian didn’t do the right thing…the spark was still there. He wouldn’t let it die.

 

Since he was there and the Inquisition was willing to help, he figured he might as well take advantage of it while he bid his time. He spoke with Leliana and Josephine, starting negotiations and talking about plans about how the Inquisition and its agents could help Dorian get his points heard back home. Talking with people that could actually be able to help him was certainly refreshing in contrast to what he had grown accustomed to in Tevinter the past few years. Everyone there looked incompetent now in comparison. He knew that if there was anyone that could make a change no matter what, it was the Inquisition. Even with force, if necessary. Harold always preferred diplomacy and the use of secrets as a way to save the day, but Cullen’s forces had grown to be a force to be reckoned with regardless. Though Dorian didn’t want that to be how he’d solve his problems back in Tevinter. But maybe if those stupid Magisters only _heard_ of the force that was backing him up…maybe that would make a difference. Maybe then they’d actually pull their heads out of their asses long enough to listen for once. They certainly seemed comfortable enough to forget that he had a hand in closing the Breach and killing Corypheus just fine. Not _the_ literal hand that closed the Breach, but still.

 

As he spent the next couple of days at Skyhold, he gradually ran across many more familiar faces, including Sera’s, who pointed at him bluntly when she saw him enter the tavern for an evening drink.

“Look, it’s that magister what’s-his-face, that made the inquisitor fall on his face!” Sera said, accompanied with her loud giggles and snorts.

“Uh, yes, quite,” Dorian cleared his throat, recognizing her instantly, “Sera, it’s good to see you again,” he made a formal bow on purpose, knowing that it would earn another snort from her. It did.

“You here to buy me drinks? I’m sure you owe me coin. Maybe I can pay back Varric now. Or Bull,” Sera walked to him quickly and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, dragging him over to the bar to order drinks. It seemed he had found company for the night.

 

“Can’t believe you never wrote, you shit!” Sera said hours later, when they were both sitting in her room at the tavern. It was quite cozy, with many pillows and more books than he’d figure she had the attention span to read stocked about.

“Yes yes, I am a bad, evil magister,” he waved his hand in a dismissive motion and finished his drink. He knew that any attempt to explain the reasons why he didn’t write would go over her head, so he didn’t bother.

“You damn right you are! I thought you and the inquisitor were a thingy-thing, always with the smooches and the like,” she noted, giving him a push on the shoulder. Dorian looked at his empty mug, wishing it was full.

“Let me rephrase that then. I am a _stupid_ , evil magister,” he chuckled, and looked outside briefly. Was the inquisitor thinking about him at all, or was he content just ignoring him until he left?

“You want him back, don’t you! I can tell,” Sera said in a mischievous tone, giggling. Dorian almost rolled his eyes before he looked at her.

“It appears I can’t hide from your superior wit, Sera.”

“Well, why you here then? Go and do it! And then _do_ _it_ ,” she giggled childishly again.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

“Yes it is.”

“No, it really isn’t,” Dorian sighed dramatically, not in the mood to argue about this of all things.

“Yes. It. Is! I know the King Inquisitor wants to smooch your face! He was a real downer when you left,” she muttered disapprovingly, “Wouldn’t let me pull pranks for months! It’s all your fault!” she gave him another shove. Dorian glanced at her. Was she really right, or was she talking about things she didn’t know? He fought back the urge to ask her for specifics, but instead went for his usual sarcasm.

“Well, of course he does. Have you seen me?” he gestured at his own face in an admiring motion. She snorted.

“Hey, don’t look at me, I can only tell you apart from all the others by your evil moustache thing,” Sera went to touch it but Dorian thankfully stopped her in-time. He had only allowed one person to touch his hair without resistance, and that person didn’t look like he even wanted to be around him right now. Something he’d have to fix immediately.

 

The next morning, it appeared he had awoken just in time to hear a recruit talk about the Inquisitor gathering a group so they could leave for a mission. Dorian swore under his breath, finishing with his morning routine quickly and hoping he had time to catch up to Harold before he left. Who knows how many days he’d be gone again. Dorian had to make a start at their reconciliation now, or him hanging around waiting for him was officially going to become pathetic.

He was fortunate enough to find Harold in the kitchens in his search for him after asking a couple of maids, and he took a breath and fixed his shirt that he had hurriedly thrown on to make it in time before walking inside.

Harold didn’t seem to notice him at first, and was eating a slice of bread in a hurry in his travelling armor that Dorian had seen him wear when he first saw him. The kitchen staff seemed to be walking in and out of the room constantly, probably carrying the morning meals to the great hall for the guests and rest of the staff. The room was filled with the smell of freshly baked bread, reminding him that he hadn’t had time to have a meal since he had woken up yet. Dorian cleared his throat, and made a small bow of his head when Harold looked up and saw him.

“Inquisitor,” he stepped further in, giving the kitchen staff room to move, “I hear you’re leaving again.”

“Dorian. This is a surprise. I’d have figured you were gone by now,” Harold commented, and Dorian tried not to feel hurt by the remark. He made a laugh.

“Did you want me gone? Have the rumors about the evil magister visiting the Inquisition started already? ” he asked, trying to make the questions appear light, though he honestly wanted to know.

“I’d have figured your business with the Inquisition was done already, that’s all. People know how much you’ve helped the Inquisition. You are welcome to stay as long as you need,” Harold countered, and Dorian almost cursed aloud. Could they stop with these games already? Would Harold stop being so polite when Dorian could tell that there were things he wanted to say? This charming noble façade he was showing him was only hurting right now. He would have expected this from people back home, not from him.

“There’s still more work to be done. Maybe if I had the mighty Inquisitor’s help, I would have been done already,” Dorian pointed, hoping that showed him that he was aware that Harold had been avoiding him. Harold raised an eyebrow.

“Me? What more help could I offer?” Harold wiped the crumps of bread from his beard with a cloth and put it aside.

“Well, you _are_ the Inquisitor. You tell me,” Dorian crossed his arms on his chest casually.

“I am the leader of a large organization. You can’t expect me to do everything myself,” Harold said dismissively and started walking out of the kitchens. Dorian thought for a second.

“Not even for an old friend?” Dorian asked just when Harold was walking past him. Harold stopped and looked at him. Dorian held his gaze, gripping his folded arms a bit tighter. After a second of them both staring at each other, Harold pulled his eyes away from him and continued walking. Dorian walked beside him determinably.

“My apologies, Dorian,” Harold gave him one of his famous smiles, “I’m sure Lady Josephine and Leliana can help you just fine,” Dorian felt like he was losing again as they arrived at Skyhold’s gates. Harold’s team was waiting, and a recruit was holding a travelling horse for him expectedly.

“No need to apologize, Inquisitor! There is no rush. Besides, I am probably doing you a favor by hanging about! You probably cried yourself to sleep without me around.”

_Shit._

He messed up.

He saw the smile freeze on Harold’s face for JUST a quarter of a second, and he knew he had messed up. No, no, this wasn’t right. That hadn’t come out right at all!

“Harold I-”

“Ouch! Oh, Sir Pavus, you wound me,” Harold chuckled and brought a hand to his chest in a dramatic motion. Dorian swallowed, cursing himself internally a million times over. He offhandedly joked in a desperate attempt to ease the air, but it came out as if he was a smug asshole. Which, alright, he was, but not about them, and not about the Inquisitor. Never about the Inquisitor.

“Wait,” Dorian rushed to Harold’s side as he went to get on his horse, but Harold ignored him long enough to climb on it, effectively stopping any reconciliation Dorian could attempt. Well, he was certainly off to a good start, wasn’t he?

“We can speak more once I get back,” Harold gave him a polite nod and turned his horse around, leaving Dorian standing there as he watched him go.

 

 .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Dorian, you and your big mouth >.>
> 
> Thank you guys for the Kudos so far! Please feel free to tell me what you personally think of the chapter, as I love reading and replying to comments about the story, and I appreciate each one I get :3. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A light flashback chapter to show the very beginnings of Dorian and the Inquisitor's relationship. The calm before the storm ;)

 

**Seven years ago (Before Skyhold)**

**Dorian’s POV**

 

 

“Agh, Kaffas. I’m drenched to the bone!” Dorian swore, looking at his now drenched white overcoat disapprovingly. The inquisitor, Cassandra, Cole and him had been walking around for what was most likely hours. Plural! And that stupid rain wouldn’t stop no matter what. No wonder they called it the Storm Coast. If he knew the Inquisitor was so fond of gathering his companions and jogging around pointlessly, he would have offered himself for a more limited role. He would have definitely preferred to be researching ancient texts next to a fireplace instead right about now. The view of the waves that wouldn’t stop crashing near their feet as they walked along the shore almost made him nauseous.

“It’s not so bad, Dorian,” Cassandra pointed, and he didn’t even bother to hide his glare. Why was everyone telling him that? Everything was cold! And wet!

“My dripping clothes beg to disagree,” he shook some water out of his robe, as if that would make much difference, “If I start sneezing, I’m going back by myself!” he said, and that seemed to get the Inquisitor’s attention. He had been walking ahead of them, scouting with his bow at the ready.

“I am sorry, Dorian. I _am_ searching for a good place to camp. I hear waking up with bears eating our toes is not a good way to go,” Trevelyan teased, turning to face him. Dorian scoffed.

“That would be appreciated,” he said, feigning annoyance.

“I aim to please,” Harold gave him a smirk.

“I’m sure you do,” Dorian bit his lip to hide a smile. He sure was pleasing to _him_. Just watching the Inquisitor’s back as he walked ahead of them in his wet leather armor made the trip almost worth it. Almost.

“Ugh,” Cassandra muttered under her breath, not hiding her disapproval. Dorian almost wanted to keep flirting with the Trevelyan just to spite her. His train of thought stopped as he started feeling something familiar.

“Do you feel that?”

“The demons are drawn here,” Cole whispered loud enough for all of them to hear. Sure enough, Dorian noticed the inquisitor’s hand start to glow suddenly. There was a fade rift nearby.

“Lovely. More time getting drenched,” Dorian complained, taking his staff out.

“Focus your annoyance at the demons, mage,” Cassandra said as she went forward with her sword and shield out when the Fade rift came into view. It was a rather large one near the sea’s waves, with demons already crawling around it.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Harold said to Dorian, moving back and standing by him as he aimed with his bow. Dorian nodded and summoned a static cage without a word, aiming it at where most of the demons were concentrated. Harold instantly started firing his arrows with grace, and Cassandra and Cole moved in to fight. Dorian quickly summoned a barrier around them both before he allowed himself a moment to breathe and get his mana back. There was a nice synergy in their fighting as a team that Dorian appreciated. He wasn’t used to fighting in a group before.

“Keep them in one place, I’m moving up to the rocks!” Harold instructed, and Dorian turned briefly to see him run up to a large rock that gave him a nice vantage point. He could use that, but he was too busy summoning spells to move.

“Don’t worry, I can do this all day!” he called out, using electricity to stun a couple of enemies near Cassandra. There were at least a few hunger demons, and a bunch of wraiths that were hard to see with all the rain. He focused his attention to them, smirking in triumph each time he’d see one dissipate after he threw a few bolts at them. Cassandra’s war cries were getting most of the attention, and they had a brief moment to breathe as the last of the hunger demons fell and disappeared.

“More are coming, it isn’t ready yet,” Cole warned when Harold tried to close the fade rift from his spot on the rocks with no result. Dorian turned to him and saw him curse under his breath. Trevelyan was no mage, and him handling the mark on his hand was a surprise all on its own.

“We need to weaken the rift more!” Dorian explained to him. He could feel the veil still thin around them.

“I know, here they come!” Harold warned and fired off an arrow that pierced a couple of wraiths as soon as they appeared through the rift, ending them instantly.

This time the fight was much harder than the previous one, with at least two large terror demons passing through the Veil and attacking them cunningly. Cassandra and Cole had their hands full, and Dorian could feel himself running out of energy to use spells, fast. They had ran out of potions in the previous fight, making things even harder.

“Die, you filth!” he yelled, trying to motivate himself as he helped kill one of the last terror demons. One more to go.

“Move!” Dorian was distracted for just a second long enough to notice the green mist under his feet a second too late. He turned to Harold, realizing that the instruction was aimed towards him.

“Dorian!” the inquisitor ran towards him just in time, shoving him out of the way quickly and sending him stumbling to the side far enough so the demon phasing under his feet didn’t throw him on his back. It got the inquisitor instead, throwing him down violently with a shriek. He grunted at the impact, his bow getting knocked out of his hands.

“Trevelyan, we’re coming!” Cassandra started charging towards the demon once she was done with the other enemies. The terror demon managed to slice at the inquisitor’s leather armor and shoulder before he could roll out of the way.

“Kaffas!” Dorian summoned what little mana he had gathered into a small stunning bolt as quickly as he could, stopping the attack from going further. Cole appeared seemingly out of thin air, stabbing the demon in the back just before Cassandra knocked it down and finished it with a final stab of her sword.

“They are gone now,” Cole announced, and Cassandra wiped some sweat from her brow when she heard. Dorian looked over and saw Harold still on his back. He ran to him with the rest of the group, heart pounding from worry.

“Trevelyan, are you alright?!” Cassandra was the first to kneel down, checking to see if he was conscious.

“Yep. Alive. Me,” Harold grunted, sounding in pain. His shoulder was bleeding. Dorian let out a sigh of relief. He was still in shock. The inquisitor pushing him back to save him had left him speechless.

“Thank the Maker,” Cassandra smiled, sounding relieved.

“We need to close the door into the Fade now,” Cole pointed at the still open rift, who was thankfully not pulling out demons for a change.

“Can you stand?” Dorian managed to ask, kneeling down. He looked down at Harold, who looked almost as still as a statue if not for his frowning face. Dorian felt guilt at the pit of his stomach at seeing him in pain.

“I guess we shall see,” Harold raised his good hand, and Cassandra helped him up. He groaned in pain again, touching his injured shoulder for a moment before stepping close to the rift. He raised his arm, squinting his eyes at the bright green light when the mark on his hand connected to the rift. Dorian watched, entranced once more at the sight of the fade mark at work.

“Good thing this doesn’t take much effort,” Harold turned to look at Dorian with a pained smile. Dorian practically glared at him.

“We need to hurry and treat your wound,” Dorian said strictly, walking forward of the rest of the group as he searched for a place to camp, not even caring about the rain now. He didn’t know why he felt so upset.

 

They had found a good enough place to camp a while later, and set up the tents hurriedly. Dorian practically dragged the Inquisitor inside an empty tent, sitting him down before he could so much as voice his surprise.

“Woah, Dorian, we’ve only just met,” Harold joked, and Dorian scoffed a bit.

“You could have gotten yourself killed,” Dorian scolded, getting their supplies out and looking through them.

“Or _you_ could have gotten yourself killed,” Harold countered lightly. Dorian glanced at him before continuing to look through their bag of herbs they had gathered while scouting around.

“I didn’t ask for your-…” Dorian started exclaiming, but stopped himself as he saw that Harold was looking at him with raised eyebrows. He cleared his throat, collecting himself. He was not used to this. His heart was still racing from the adrenaline of the fight, not to mention Harold’s actions. He wasn’t accustomed to being in a team before. This camaraderie business…it left him confused.

“I apologize, that was unkind of me. I just don’t want to have the life of the Herald of Andraste on my head,” he said finally, and Harold chuckled.

“That would be pretty bad, it’s true,” Harold teased. It was no secret that the inquisitor didn’t believe in Andraste or that he was her Herald, despite coming from a noble family that had ties to the Chantry. That hadn’t stopped anyone from declaring him such, however.

“I am unfortunately no healer, so this is the best I can do,” Dorian said when he finally found enough medicinal herbs in his pack.

“That’s alright. It’s not that bad,” Harold reassured, removing his upper leather armor carefully. Dorian tried to stay a proper gentleman and not stare at the inquisitor’s bare chest as he tried to clean and apply the now processed elfroot on his wound. He did however notice that the inquisitor had some very light freckles on his shoulders that matched his cheeks.

“Ow,” Harold tensed a bit when Dorian applied the elfroot over his still open wound. It fortunately didn’t look serious, and the most painful thing appeared to be the freshly forming bruises on the inquisitor’s skin from the harsh impact on the rocks.

“Stop squirming,” Dorian instructed, stepping closer to do it more carefully, “What were you thinking? Is this your way of trying to get into my good graces?” Dorian glanced at Harold’s face long enough to see him smile.

“It appears I’ve been caught. Did it work?” Harold asked in a smug tone. Dorian laughed, shaking his head.

“Next time, do try to find a safer way to do it. I don’t care how normal this is considered in the South with you barbarians,” he gave him a tiny poke to his side.

“Ouch! I am an injured man,” Harold burst out laughing, pretending to be hurt.

“And whose fault is that?” Dorian could hardly keep a straight face as he finished bandaging his wound. Flirting with the inquisitor was one of the most pleasant pastime activities he had found ever since coming to help the Inquisition. The Inquisitor was a handsome man, and the attention he was giving him as a man was a nice surprise. Stopping Alexius together had quickly made them be in good terms, and unlike pretty much everyone else in Haven that wouldn’t give him the time of day, the Inquisitor often came to talk to him and took him on missions with him. It had been a very nice surprise indeed.

“All done,” Dorian announced as he stood up and dusted his hands off. He gave Harold one final smirk.

“And you already _are_ in my good graces, Inquisitor,” he said before turning around and leaving the tent.

 

 

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing cute stuff like this >.>. Makes me feel better about breaking everyone's heart later on *cough*
> 
>  
> 
> Please keep sharing your thoughts on the chapters with me! :D
> 
> Edit: I just realized that based on the game missions you wouldn't be able to have Cole and Dorian in your team at the same time before Skyhold! Agh, just ignore this tiny plot hole x_x. I mostly just mentioned 'before Skyhold' just to point out that it's pretty early in the game and thus before Dorian and Harold get together. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed regardless! Heh


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been meaning to share this nice image of Harold Trevelyan I took, but forgot to do so in the previous chapter, so here it is:  
> http://i111.photobucket.com/albums/n144/katerinafm/game/Harold%20new_zpsppmygzho.png  
> Or alternative link:  
> http://sta.sh/08e78chlcx4  
> If the Black Emporium had come out, I would have tried to see if he looked close enough to what I imagine him to look like with the current timeline's beard with one of the beard choices in-game. But, alas...
> 
> Back to current timeline and Dorian's POV.

If wallowing in self pity was considered a talent, then Dorian would be a master right about now. How could he have handled this so poorly? Why couldn’t he think straight and handle this calmly and properly like everything else?

Dorian cursed and put a book back in the library loudly, not feeling like reading anyway. Alright, fine. He _had_ an idea as to why he was acting like this. He was acting just like he had acted when he and the Inquisitor had first gotten together. Like a…rookie. He had no idea how to handle this. He had no prior experiences with getting someone back. And any experience he had had in being in a real, meaningful relationship that didn’t revolve around sex had been with Harold. It was hard to think objectively. Any feelings that he had tried to push to the back of his mind while he was gone were back the instant he laid his eyes on his Amatus again.

 

The Inquisitor had been gone for a couple of days, and from what he had heard he wouldn’t be back for at least a week. However, if Dorian gave up now it’d be laughable. He hadn’t given up on an almost lost cause for five whole years in Tevinter. He would not give up on him yet. Maybe ever, if he was being honest with himself.

He tried to push those overly syrupy thoughts aside and left the library as he headed for the stairs. He went to the upper floor, walking further in and seeing Leliana over at the tiny praying spot she had set up that was surrounded by large candles. He wasn’t sure why he was there. He could ask her to work on his plans but, that wasn’t really why he had gone there. If there was a way he could ask her about Harold…

She was kneeling down, looking as if lost in prayer. Dorian scratched his chin, then sighed loudly and turned around as he decided that he shouldn’t interrupt.

“You need me for something, Pavus?” Dorian turned around quickly, surprised. Did that woman have eyes on the back of her head?

“No worries, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Just came to chat, really,” he watched her stand and turn around, looking at him briefly before walking over to her desk.

“What did you wish to speak about?”

“I…” he cleared his throat, “Well, I was bored and thought we could look over-”

“You wish to speak of the Inquisitor,” she interrupted him before he could even finish backing out. He crossed his arms on his chest, trying to look casual.

“Not in particular…”

“Clearly, Josie won’t tell you much or you would have gone to her instead. What makes you think I’ll be any better?” hiding from her appeared to be useless. Her senses as a bard were clearly as sharp as ever.

“A fool man’s hope, maybe?” he waved his hand dismissively. She tilted her head to the side slightly before she spoke.

“You haven’t shared much about your time back in Tevinter. Your sudden arrival coupled with your lack of correspondence is…peculiar,” she said. Her tone was friendly, but part of him felt like he was being interrogated. He rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling a bit.

“Yes, well, I’ve been extremely busy. I barely had time for any social calls,” he lied, feeling the need to defend himself again.

“Is that so?” Leliana started looking through her missives, looking like she was now occupied with something else. So much for that conversation then. He went to leave again.

“I had my agents look into you,” he stopped just before the first step of the stairs, and turned around in surprise.

“You what?”

“It’s in the Inquisition’s best interest if I keep track of the people that used to be in it. I checked on you periodically over the years,” she said unapologetically. He swallowed. How much did she know, exactly?

“Now, let’s just pretend for just a moment that this isn’t utterly insulting of you. What nice things did you find out about me?” he started feeling nervous as he thought more of the implications.

“Enough to know you’re not a danger to the Inquisition,” she said, eyes as sharp as daggers. She knew everything, didn’t she? She knew what Dorian had been up to. She probably knew that he hadn’t been as busy as he was claiming. She probably knew that after a certain point he spent just as much time drinking as he spent working. She probably knew of his brief encounters with other men. Leliana was ruthless with her information gathering as far as he remembered, and it definitely didn’t look like the years had softened her up.

“And, uh, did you share what you learned with the Inquisitor?” he asked, feeling his throat dry. If he knew then…his chances would be worse than ever. He would appear as the jerk that left his lover behind and started sleeping around without a care in the world, even though that couldn’t have been further from the truth. And it’s not like he expected Harold to have stayed celibate all these years away from him either.

She seemed to be examining him carefully for a few moments while he stood there, waiting with his breath held.

“No,” she finally said, and Dorian nodded curtly. He stood there as he wondered if that meant she could potentially blackmail him in the future. It appeared that more people were watching out for Harold than he’d anticipated, not just as a leader but for his personal well being as well. It wasn’t a surprise that the charming Inquisitor had gathered many friends and allies. But he didn’t expect to be treated as the enemy so much.

 

Before their awkward silence could get any worse, Dorian heard quick footsteps going up the stairs, and he turned around to see a young scout rushing towards Leliana. He stopped once he reached her, panting and trying to catch his breath.

“My Lady!”

“What is it?” Leliana instantly stepped forward, and the scout stood up straight once he collected himself.

“Our men in the watchtowers have spotted the Inquisitor’s team making their way back to Skyhold. The Inquisitor looks injured- b-bad! They’ll be here any second!” The scout said anxiously. Dorian’s mouth parted, feeling his stomach drop.

“Run and inform the medics. Prepare the nearest clean room to take him for treatment,” Dorian heard Leliana instruct as he started rushing down the stairs, heart beating so fast he could practically hear it drumming against his ears. If the scouts had noticed Harold’s injury from so far away…Maker, if he died before Dorian could explain things to him properly then he’d never forgive him.

He arrived at Skyhold’s gates just in time to see the gates open and the Inquisitor and his team riding through it with their horses. There was a large commotion, and Dorian had to push through a bunch of people so he could get close enough to see clearly.

Harold was practically lying on his horse, with his back hunched over and his arm gripping a heavily bleeding side. He looked pale and barely conscious, and even his horse had been stained with blood slightly. Once all the horses stopped, the rest of his team dismounted quickly, yelling at the commotion of people to step back. Dorian barely noticed that the Iron Bull was amongst them, and only realized it when he helped the Inquisitor off his horse with far more gentleness that he’d expect from a giant like him.

“It’s okay, Boss, the worst is over,” he heard him say, and Dorian walked over to them quickly as Harold could only grunt in pain at the movement.

“What happened?!” Dorian exclaimed, and Bull looked like he didn’t waste time on pleasantries either.

“Assassins. Hasn’t been the first time,” he replied grimly as he carried the inquisitor, who was panting loudly and looked like he was holding back cries of pain at any slight movement. Dorian felt helpless as he watched Bull quickly carry the Inquisitor over to where the same scout he had seen before instructed to take him for treatment. Dorian watched, feeling his whole body shaking as he followed behind a few seconds later.

_Festis bei umo canavarum._

 

 

“What do you mean, there are no healers?”

“I know. I’m surprised you can’t just wiggle your fingers and just fix all the wounds yourself. What’s the point of being a mage if you have to study to actually make use of it?” Iron Bull and Dorian were standing outside the room the Inquisitor had been carried into, and the medic that was there had practically shoved them both out and closed the door in their face in order to have some privacy. Apparently, all the available healer mages that were usually in Skyhold had been assigned into other Keeps, and the normal medics would have to look into Harold’s wounds themselves. Dorian had only just now managed to stop shaking, and Bull being covered with Harold’s blood from carrying him wasn’t helping.

“That’s not how it- agh, nevermind,” Dorian shook his head, not in a mood for an academic debate on magic. He took a breath and looked up at Bull again.

“Now tell me what happened.”

“I told you. Assassins,” the Iron Bull said slowly.

“Yes yes, I know that part. But how? How did you not see it coming?” Dorian questioned.

“It’s not like we were scratching our asses when it happened. It just happened. They ambushed us on the way. We were lucky they attacked us so early,” the Iron Bull crossed his arms across his chest and leaned on the wall.

“Kaffas…” Dorian rubbed his forehead a bit. Why couldn’t he go in and see how Harold was already?

“Ah, Tevene. Hadn’t heard it in a while,” the Iron Bull instantly commented, nodding his head with a smirk. Dorian felt angrier instantly.

“So good to see you still take pleasure in the little things while the Inquisitor is half dead,” Dorian almost spat. Perhaps his anger was misplaced, but he couldn’t help it.

“Boss will be fine. He’s had worse,” Iron Bull said encouragingly, but Dorian wasn’t buying it. He was too worried to. He just wanted to see if he was alright.

“So, after all this time, you come back. Why?” Iron Bull asked conversationally after a minute of silence.

“Why do you care?” Dorian crossed his arms and leaned on the opposite wall from him.

“I don’t care about you. I care about the Boss,” Iron Bull said simply, and Dorian frowned before he laughed mockingly.

“Don’t tell me you’ve grown to fancy each other! I didn’t think the inquisitor’s tastes could change this much,” it hadn’t crossed his mind before, but what if that was true? It was very far-fetched but, how could he compare to a giant qunari if that was the case?

“Don’t get your moustache all twisted, Vint. It’s nothing like that,” Iron Bull said, and Dorian tried to hide his relief.

“I just don’t want to see him hurt, that’s all. Leaders like him need to be strong. Or next time it might really be the worst he’s ever had,” Iron Bull said simply, talking as if he knew from experience.

“Oh, is that why he’s hurt on your watch then?” Dorian couldn’t help but accuse, glaring at him. Iron Bull didn’t look offended, but instead stood up straight and almost towered over him.

“Look at you. You’re almost as good as those mind-breaking potions they make back in Seheron. Broke the Inquisitor just fine,” Bull said in a low voice smoothly, and Dorian’s eyes widened in anger.

“How dare you! You know nothing about-”

“At least I was there when he was hurt. Where have you been?”

Dorian opened his mouth to yell something again, but realized he couldn’t say something back this time. The Iron Bull knew exactly which wound to poke and prod to make him speechless. Dorian gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists.

“Go clean yourself up, you oaf! You’re gruesome to look at!” he finally stuttered, waving him away. Iron Bull merely glanced down at his own chest, as if only now realizing he was covered in blood.

“Uh huh,” Iron Bull started walking away, looking like he had said everything he’d meant to say. Dorian hated that his words rang true. He hadn’t been there for Harold. But no, he couldn’t lose heart now. He could still fix it.

 

When the door finally opened and the medic appeared, Dorian almost jumped up from the spot on the wall he had been leaning on.

“Is he awake?” he asked in a rushed breath.

“Yes, he had passed out for a minute but it looks like he’s fully in his own senses now. I am about to bandage his wound. You can go tell Lady-”

“I’m not here for that,” Dorian ignored her and walked inside the room. A wave of relief washed over him when he saw Harold sitting on the bed. The wound on his side looked bad, but that he was conscious was a good sign.

“Very well,” the medic walked back in as well and walked back to the Inquisitor’s side, kneeling in front of him on the bed with all of her tools and bandages to treat him. Harold only then looked up and noticed Dorian there, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise for a second. His now bare torso was covered in blood, and even his beard and face had stains on it. It pained Dorian to see him like this.

“Harold,” he breathed, stepping closer, but still giving plenty of room for the medic to work. She started cleaning the area around the wound carefully, and had to use multiple cloths due to them getting soaked in blood.

“Why are you here?” Harold asked, looking almost breathless.

“I almost had a heart attack, that’s why! I saw you getting brought in. What happened?” Dorian asked lamely, not bothering to hide his worry. Harold didn’t say anything right away, only staring at him through tired eyes.

“We were ambushed by assassins on the way over to the meeting,” Harold finally explained through short breaths, “They had poison too, but Bull knew how to make an antidote in time,” Dorian raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Poison? Who would do-” Dorian started, but got interrupted as Harold grunted loudly in pain suddenly, almost bending over and gripping the sheets as the medic started to disinfect the wound with alcohol. He gasped in anguish, breathing loudly.

“Are you alright?!” Dorian exclaimed, going to step closer.

“Why do you care, Dorian?!” Harold snapped angrily, voice coated with the pain that the medic was causing him in order to clean his wound that just now looked like it had stopped bleeding as heavily.

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I care! That’s why-!” Dorian started yelling back, but stopped himself. They were not alone, and he felt uncomfortable talking with someone else present. But if he didn’t start this now instead of waiting for the ‘right’ moment then by the looks of it he might never get the chance at all.

“Leave us, please,” Harold suppressed a grunt of pain as the medic went to start putting bandages on him until he stopped her. The medic sighed and nodded, looking like she was fighting the urge to argue against it. She left the room, and when Dorian heard the door close softly behind her he took a small breath.

“That’s why I’m here. That’s why I came back!” he said intensely, almost glaring at the Inquisitor and taking a step closer for affect. Harold didn’t look convinced, but pained and angry. He laughed, then gripped his side in anguish. Dorian fought the urge to rush to his side and try to ease the pain.

“Oh, really, Dorian?” was all it appeared he could muster to say over the pain. Dorian took an almost shaky breath. Confessions weren’t his thing, and any nerve he had mustered was being put to the test under Harold’s criticizing stare. But he had to say this.

“I know it’s been a long time. And I’m sorry I didn’t write-” Dorian blinked as Harold started to stand up.

“You come here, after five years,” Harold almost growled with the effort, but straightened himself up fully with a hand still on his bleeding side.

“And you expect me, to what? Welcome you with open arms? Pretend like nothing happened? Pretend like I had heard from you in five years? Is this a joke?” Harold looked almost repulsed, but it could have just been from the pain. Dorian shook his head.

“Of course not. But if you’d just let me explain-”

“No,” Harold went to step forward, probably in an attempt to get the medic. He groaned and went to stumble over as the pain overwhelmed him. Dorian caught him in time, but Harold practically pushed him aside and forced himself upright by himself, even though it looked painful. Dorian fought the urge to yell at him for being a buffoon that wouldn’t accept his help, but thankfully remembered that he wasn’t in the best position to do so.

“Save it,” Harold panted, going and sitting back down on the bed, obviously realizing his limits. He was sweating, and his chest was heaving up and down.

“Leave,” he instructed in a calmer tone, looking exhausted. Dorian opened his mouth, unsure if he should press the issue more right now or not. But he’d rather not be the reason the mighty Inquisitor bled to death because he was too busy arguing with him.

“I will. But this isn’t over. We _will_ talk. Later,” Dorian tried to look as confident as a man who was practically shaking could get, and reluctantly left the room. At least it looked like the Trevelyan’s injuries had finally made him stop hiding behind his finger. He was showing a true emotion to him rather than his diplomatic behavior that masked what he was truly feeling. Even if that emotion was anger, they were still getting somewhere.

 

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand here we finally see Harold ;P. 
> 
> I haven't slept properly in two days, so I might have missed a few typos etc while going through it. Please let me know if you see any glaring mistakes until I go through it again!
> 
> No comments in the last chapter made me think that it was probably pretty lackluster :(. I'd really love to hear your thoughts on this, and I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go pass out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Over four years ago**

**Harold’s POV**

 

“Inquisitor? Sir Trevelyan.”

“Yes?” Harold looked back towards Josephine after being lost in thought.

“Did you hear what I said?” Josephine asked, placing a hand on her hip.

“…Of course! Why would I not hear about that…noble house that wants our help?” Harold flashed her a wide grin as he tried to guess what they had been talking about, and Josephine sighed in defeat.

“Very well. I suppose this is not the best topic to bring up first thing in the morning,” Josephine said understandingly, though Harold could tell she was frustrated with him. They were having tea together while going through some light work in her office.

“I apologize, Lady Josephine,” his smile turned apologetic. He could not focus at all. Not that he usually found such topics interesting. His mind was elsewhere. Tevinter, specifically. It had been almost a year since Dorian had left, and Harold was growing more and more worried. He had written to him a few times, but Dorian hadn’t replied. And today was usually the day when the messengers would come that brought all the letters to Skyhold.

“It’s alright. I understand,” she said. Josephine and him had grown very close, despite keeping the, mostly amusing to Harold, titles and polite way of speaking while talking to one another. He had shared his concern with her once, to which she had instantly told him was unnecessary, and that Dorian was certainly just busy and would send word to him soon. He hadn’t brought it up again since, but each time the messenger would come without any letters, his worry would grow more and more.

“Perhaps you should take over as leader of the Inquisition for the moment, Josephine. It appears I’m not in my best behavior,” he teased, watching her eyes widen.

“Don’t even jest about that! I can hardly handle the amount of duties now!” she shook her head, not finding it as amusing as he did.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way!”

“I wouldn’t, it’s true. But never doubt that there wouldn’t be an Inquisition like it is now if it wasn’t for you, Inquisitor,” she said confidently. He chuckled a bit.

“You always know just what to say.”

“I am an ambassador, Sir Trevelyan. If I didn’t, I would be dead.”

 

Harold hurriedly made his way to the courtyard once they were done, noticing that it was around the time that the messenger always arrived. He flashed a few polite smiles along the way, cleverly dodging conversation starters with passersby as he walked towards the entrance, and placed his hands behind his back once he reached the messenger that had just arrived.

“Oh, Lord inquisitor!” the messenger was still surprised every time she saw him come in person to get his correspondence, “I-I, here are your letters!” she clumsily reached in her bag and pulled out a huge stack of them. He thanked her and gave her a smile that made a deep blush decorate her cheeks. He was aware of her apparent crush, but what he only cared about at the moment was that that made her better at her job, and his letters would never get misplaced because of it. He took the letters from her hurriedly, instantly sorting through them as she practically stumbled away. Dozens of letters from noble families, factions that wanted to work together, a couple of personal letters from his family in Ostwick…no letter from Dorian. He sighed heavily, shoulders falling. After thinking for a few seconds he started walking back to the main building, making his way to Leliana.

 

At first, Harold had thought that Dorian must have been extremely busy. But now, after months with no word, he was worried that something else might have been going on. Maybe something had gone wrong? What if Dorian was in trouble? What if his family had done something to him? What if his father had gotten Dorian’s guard down, only to go through with that horrid blood magic ritual he had told him about? Even Dorian admitted that blood magic was way more common in Tevinter, despite it not being as bad as everyone thought of in the South. But he couldn’t risk not knowing any more. He had promised Dorian that he’d keep the Inquisition away, and that he’d let Dorian do what he needed to on his own, but now he was worried for his life. It was different.

“Leliana, a word?” he asked instantly once he reached her, speaking loud enough to be heard over the messenger birds in their cages. Leliana stopped talking to one of her agents, and sent him away with a nod of her head.

“Yes, Inquisitor?”

“I need…a favor,” Harold walked over to her desk and sat down opposite it.

“You are the leader of the Inquisition. You don’t need ‘favors’. You can just ask,” Leliana sat down as well, not wasting time either. He laughed a bit.

“And we’ve seen how well it’s worked out for leaders that thought themselves powerful enough to ask for anything,” Harold noted, to which Leliana smiled collectively.

“A fair point.” Leliana seemed to appreciate it more when Harold would get straight to the point, and Harold’s mood right now fit that just fine. He told her of his concern over Dorian’s well-fare, and how he hadn’t gotten word from him ever since he had left for Tevinter. For all he knew he never even made it there.

“We have agents in Tevinter. Not many, but enough,” she nodded her head, and he could tell that she was already planning it out in her head.

“Good. If he’s in trouble, help him but if possible, don’t let him know of the inquisition’s presence,” he instructed as Leliana had already started writing down on a missive.

“I’ll send word at once.”

 

It took another painfully long month before Leliana got word back from her agents. Once she called him up, his heart was pounding in fear of what she might tell him. He arrived to the top floor, panting slightly, yet hiding it effectively as he walked to her desk.

“Inquisitor, I’ve gotten word back from my agents,” she said as soon as she saw him, the crow that had probably sent her the message still on her arm. She sent it away gently.

“Give me a brief report,” he told her, bracing himself.

“He is fine,” Leliana started with the most important thing, no doubt aware that that was the main concern on his mind. A weight in his heart lifted, and relief rushed over him. 

“And?” he reached over as she started handing him a number of small papers.

“And, that’s it,” Harold glanced at her before at the missives, “Our agents followed his schedule for two weeks to try and see if there are any irregularities to it. There are no signs of manipulation, secret meetings, blood magic…None,” she gestured at the papers on Harold’s hands. They appeared to have Dorian’s detailed schedule for most of that month, with brief reports. Harold merely glanced at them before back at Leliana.

“So, he’s fine?”

“He is,” Leliana nodded her head curtly. Harold didn’t know what to say. He was glad that Dorian was well, of course, and relieved beyond belief. But that didn’t explain why he wasn’t writing back to him. Was he really just that busy to not have sent word for almost a year?

“I…thank you,” he just stood there, holding the missives as he thought to himself. Once he realized that he’d better put those thoughts aside for later, he looked at her gratefully.

“Thank you for doing this, Leliana, and I’m sorry for wasting your time. I know that our agents can be put to better use-“ she stopped him by raising her palm firmly.

“When we were still fighting the Breach and Corypheus, you still made time to help me get to Divine Justinia’s last message. You came with me when you had more important matters to deal with. This was nothing,” Leliana bowed her head slightly. It looked like she had wanted to say this for a while, “Do not apologize for anything, Inquisitor.”

 

That night he was back in his room, sitting on his desk. He had read over the missives more carefully, trying to notice any irregularities that the agents might have missed, but of course, there was nothing. A few written words would be able to tell him far less than the agents that actually were there anyway. Now he was just…confused. Surely Dorian would write to him. Surely he was just so busy beyond belief that…

Harold closed his eyes tightly. Sometimes, it was hard to keep thinking positively. But he had to. For Dorian as well. And for himself, and the Inquisition. He had wanted to be a leader. He liked the power, and the name he had made for himself. His family hadn’t had big plans for him since he was the youngest son, but even so he made a name for himself without their help. But it was so much easier with Dorian’s shoulder to lean on when he needed to share the burden. He loved him, and he missed him, and now…

He had wanted to be supportive of Dorian and what he had to do. Even though it had killed him to send him away, he had done so with his blessing, and even put on an encouraging smile as he did so. Now he couldn’t help the ache from starting at the core of his chest, and stop the doubts from starting to form in his mind. But he couldn’t show regret now.

So he took out a fresh piece of paper, and after taking a deep breath, he started writing, leaving out the recent events from his letter, as well as his doubts. He’d give him more time.

 

_Dear Dorian,_

_Greetings from Skyhold! How have you been? I’ve been good, though missing you, of course. It’s been a month since my last letter, and I apologize. Let me tell you what’s been up lately with the inquisition…_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some more manpain. Who doesn't love that? 
> 
> I find the comments saying that rooting for Dorian is difficult here really interesting. It seems even a character as beloved as our Dorian can be seen in a negative light when under the right circumstances or a different point of view ;)
> 
> While I will make it clearer why Dorian was a poop, what have you gathered was the reason behind him leaving and staying away with no contact?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the present.

It was odd, but Dorian felt slightly…more hopeful. Of course, he was worried about Harold’s health, but other than that…they had started something. Even if that very brief argument could barely be called a proper interaction, it still was better than all those other talks they had done since Dorian had arrived to Skyhold combined. They needed to get it all out in the open. It was the only way Dorian would get the chance to explain to Harold why he hadn’t been in contact.

Antagonizing people helped no one, and so while Harold was still recovering and wouldn’t take any visitors, Dorian found Iron Bull and went to speak with him. He apologized, and was surprised to see Iron Bull apologizing to him also, and telling him that he had also been tense due to Harold’s injuries and didn’t mean what he had said in the heat of the moment. They might not have been the best of friends, but clearing the air was good, even though he still knew that some of Bull’s words were true. Harold must have trusted Iron Bull a lot to have kept him in his personal team after all these years.

Harold’s recovery was thankfully over quickly, since word of his injuries travelled to the other Keeps, and a healer mage that was assigned to the nearest Keep quickly travelled back to Skyhold to help him personally. A few days later, Harold was back on his feet, though still not travelling, which worked for Dorian just fine.

 

It still came as a huge surprise to Dorian when a recruit approached him and told him that the Inquisitor was asking for him. He had expected to be ignored again, and so he was biding his time at the library again while he thought of ways to speak to him. He didn’t need to be told twice, however, and quickly made his way to the War room where the Inquisitor was waiting for him. Dorian’s heart started beating faster in anticipation as he stood outside the war room door for a couple of seconds to brace himself. He straightened his back, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door before he opened it. He saw the Trevelyan looking outside the large windows with his back to the door. All the blood he had been covered in days ago was gone, and he was now wearing casual noble clothes made of white cloths and expensive dark leathers. Dorian rubbed the back of his neck.

“You asked of me?” Dorian asked, stepping closer. There was the large war room table between them, and Dorian tried to stay where he was instead of crossing it to come closer to the Inquisitor right away.

“I did,” he could have sworn he heard him sigh, though the distance made it harder to hear him. They both stayed silent for a minute, and Dorian bit his lip nervously.

“It’s good to see you doing well again. How are you feeling?” he asked, motioning to Harold’s side even though he couldn’t see him.

“It’s fine now. Just a bit sore. I’ve had worse,” Harold said, and Dorian nodded as he started walking around the table cautiously.

“So I hear. Who do you think was behind this?” he asked, honestly curious.

“Leliana thinks they’re from Orlais due to the poison. Maybe Gaspard’s fanatics?” Harold pondered, shrugging his shoulders slightly as he looked to the side. Dorian felt nervous. This small talk wasn’t helping him as much as he had hoped.

“I do hope you find who’s behind this. I leave the Inquisition for five minutes and you start getting yourself killed!” Dorian said, feigning annoyance as he finally reached the side of the table Harold had been standing on. That earned a small chuckle from Harold.

“Five minutes? Is that what it seemed like to you?” Harold looked at him for the first time since he came in, and Dorian locked his gaze determinably.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he said more seriously. Harold looked back out the window again.

“You said you wanted to talk. So talk,” Harold said, and Dorian raised his eyebrows. He swallowed before speaking. He had practiced on what he should say and how. But for all the preparations, all his studies as a well spoken scholar, now his mind was blank.

“Harold I…I’m sorry,” he started, “I need you to know that.”

“Alright.”

Dorian arched an eyebrow.

“Alright?” he mimicked, frowning a bit, “That’s it?” Harold turned his body to face him with hands behind his back.

“What did you want to hear, Dorian?” he asked. Dorian’s frown stayed in place.

“I don’t know, ‘I forgive you’, maybe?” he scoffed.

“I don’t,” Harold said simply, and Dorian shook his head as he felt his stomach drop.

“Then _listen_ to me,” Dorian stepped closer, speaking passionately, “Allow me to explain!”

“I don’t think I want to hear your excuses, Dorian. It’s not necessary,” Harold waved a dismissive hand, “You moved on. That’s fine. I did too,” he said in a casual tone, though his eyes betrayed otherwise.

“No, I didn’t!” Dorian said, stepping even closer, “Harold I never-”

“Oh, what are you going to say now?” Harold chuckled, “That you were loyally waiting for me in Tevinter? Maybe you’re going to tell me that you were cursed and unable to write letters for all these years? How does blood magic work, exactly?” he mocked, and Dorian gritted his teeth.

“There was no one else in my mind but you, Harold,” Dorian said truthfully. Harold laughed.

“Sure, whatever you say, Dorian,” Harold rubbed his forehead, looking like he didn’t take him seriously.

“Please, are you going to tell me you haven’t slept with anyone in five years either?” Dorian countered back. Harold didn’t reply, and even though Dorian felt a pang of jealousy, he forced himself to move past it. It was true that Dorian had had sex with other men while he was gone, but they had meant nothing to him. Dorian wouldn’t have even needed to know the rules of sex between men in Tevinter to not want anything more out of the ones he had briefly come across while away from him. It was Harold who was always in his heart and mind, no one else. Not even for a second did that change. And he hadn’t even slept with anyone at first, even though it wasn’t required of him. But this wasn’t a competition. Even though he was already trying to guess who and how many did the Trevelyan charm while he was gone.

“Are you with someone else?” he asked to make sure.

“No,” Harold replied curtly. Dorian nodded, hiding his relief. He was so preoccupied with his task he hadn’t checked to see if Harold had been involved with anyone currently.

Dorian stepped in and placed his hand on Harold’s arm, forcing him to look into his eyes.

“Will you stop shutting me out?” Dorian exclaimed in annoyance, “Stop being difficult and let me explain to you!” Harold took his hand off him, glaring at Dorian for a moment before he pushed it aside.

“I am sick of listening to your lies, Dorian!” Harold snapped, “You think I’m an idiot? Maybe I was at first, but not anymore,” his voice was low, but was so intense and full of anger that Dorian could hear it loud and clear.

“Harold, I wanted to write but I just couldn’t,” Dorian said weakly, looking at him intently.

“Is that the best you can do?” Harold mocked, arms across his chest. He did not look impressed. Dorian let out a breath. Why could he not say this better? Why were all the nice eloquent words he had thought of alone not coming to his head?

“Would you have liked a lie instead? Sure, let me just use the blood magic excuse. I was captured by my family and they forced me to do their bidding until I broke out of their spell. Better?” Dorian said, waving his hand dramatically. Harold shook his head and stepped away, walking over to the window.

“Did you know I thought of that?” Harold asked, voice calmer now.

“Thought of what?” Dorian frowned.

“I thought there must be a reason. ‘Maybe he’s in trouble’. ‘Maybe he’s hurt. ‘There’s no _way_ he wouldn’t contact’,” Harold started in a mocking tone even though he sounded tired. Dorian’s mouth parted.

“But no,” Harold said, laughing a bit bitterly.

“I was so fooled! You had just moved on and I just didn’t notice!” Harold smiled, as if telling a joke.

“That’s not true!” Dorian said through gritted teeth.

“I had to ask Leliana to look for you to see if you were still **alive** , Dorian!” Harold looked at him, eyes furious. Dorian felt frustrated tears at the corners of his eyes.

“Here I was, worried sick that you hadn’t even made it back safely, but no! I was just a fucking moron, wasn’t I?! You were fine! You just didn’t feel like writing, that’s all!” Harold shook his head exasperatedly. Dorian took a shaky breath. Leliana had told him that she hadn’t shared her reports with Harold, but now it looked like Harold had looked into it himself? How much did he know?

“Don’t be absurd,” Dorian said, trying to hide his trembling voice, “I’m sorry it-” his now rapidly beating hard made it even harder to think, “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“Harold I…I want you back,” Dorian finally said, “We can still-”

“Why? Do they not fuck well in Tevinter?” Harold questioned, voice sharp. Dorian’s hands formed into fists. It was so rare to see the Trevelyan speak like this, and in the past it had never been directed at him.

“That’s not why I’m back,” he said, head held high.

“Oh? Then you want the inquisition’s help that badly again?”

“Vishante kaffas, screw the Inquisition!” Dorian yelled, pushing some chess pieces off the war table dramatically to make his point, “That’s not even why I came back!”

“I don’t care why you came back. I just want you to finish your business and leave me in peace!” Harold yelled back, glaring at him. Dorian refused to even acknowledge those words.

“My business is you! I want you. **You**. Why won’t you believe me?” Dorian stepped in again and brought his hands to Harold’s face. That seemed to make him pause for a second, and they looked at each other intently.

“Tell me you don’t feel anything for me, and I’ll go,” Dorian said in a whisper, terrified of what he’d hear. No matter how much he tried, if Harold told him that he didn’t feel anything for him anymore, it’d be over.

When neither of them moved, Dorian leaned up to kiss him determinably, and closed his eyes when their lips met. Kissing Harold again without alcohol fogging his mind made him practically tremble at the reunion. Both seemed completely lost in the kiss instantly as it grew more passionate by the second. Harold’s arms slipped to Dorian’s hips as if by instinct, and Dorian pulled him closer in return by wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

When the back of their legs made contact with the war table and the impact made some chess pieces fall to the ground with a sound, Harold seemed to come back to his senses. He pulled away abruptly, shaking his head and moving back. Dorian went to move towards him again, but Harold stopped him firmly.

“Stop it. I listened to your excuses. It’s done. Leave,” he could see that Harold was conflicted and confused. Dorian wanted to push through all that pain and anger to show him that he could really trust him again.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Then I will,” Harold stormed out of the war room, leaving Dorian standing there as he slammed the door shut. Dorian took a shaky breath and rubbed his face with trembling hands. He couldn’t tell if he had made progress, or shut the door between him and Harold forever.

 

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder that this story is my personal possible headcanon about Dorian and his relationship with my Inquisitor and I do not claim to write a masterpiece with perfect characterization and plot! This is just me having fun with drama, fluff (and eventual smut) and sharing it for the people that enjoy it as well! 8D
> 
> Now that that's out of the way...
> 
> ATTENTION! If you'd like to give me a prompt for these two that you want to see in a flashback, this is your last chance to do so! I only have one more chapter left to write and there's only one more empty flashback spot that's not already written! 
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed! We're nearing the end in a few chapters :O. Things are escalating quickly! Next flashback chapter is super long and has some pretty heavy nsfw stuff, so stay tuned for that >\\\\\\\>


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: heavy NSFW!

 

**Almost a year after Corypheus' death.**

 

**Dorian's POV**

 

 

“Why did you bring us out here? Couldn’t some agent check on the Keep for you instead of having to come down here yourself?” Dorian wondered out loud as he walked beside Harold. They were walking in the, peaceful for a change, countryside of Crestwood, and had started wandering a while after arriving at the Inquisition’s established Keep in the area.

“Hm? Is it not to your tastes, Dorian?” Harold turned to him, slightly raising an eyebrow and giving him a smile.

“Last time we were here it was raining and cold. Not to mention the place was riddled with undead,” Dorian remembered, shivering at the memory. He could handle the undead just fine, but the humidity on the other hand…

“Exactly. Which is why I decided now would be the perfect opportunity to explore around. Sun’s out, dragon and undead gone…and would you look at that; No rain or even cold,” Harold motioned around at the expanse of green grass they were walking on, looking pleased. It was indeed rather…agreeable.

“You’re awfully cheery,” Dorian noticed, chuckling a bit, “I didn’t know you liked the countryside so much,” Harold smiled at him fondly and got closer.

“I’m mostly glad to steal a moment alone with you,” he said close to his ear before standing up straight again, “You yourself have said that Skyhold is not exactly filled with things to do.”

“It’s true. I could continue critiquing the inquisition’s uniform, but so far it hasn’t seemed to do any good,” Dorian joked. Getting away for something other than a mission was certainly a rarity, especially since the Inquisitor’s team wasn’t tagging along. And having the Inquisitor all to himself instead of getting stolen away by work every few minutes like he was back at Skyhold was certainly appreciated.

“They are practical, Dorian.”

“And hideous. Sometimes I think your enemies run away from your soldiers just because they can’t stand to look at the thing,” he said, and Harold laughed a bit before he shook his head.

“As long as they run in the other direction it works for me,” the Inquisitor said with a little smirk. Dorian glanced at him as they walked. He certainly looked pleased. Whether it was from the pleasing view or him, he couldn’t know.

“I suppose this is agreeable enough,” Dorian said, pretending to be nonchalant.

“We could go back and wait for the rain to start if you’d prefer,” Harold teased. Dorian rolled his eyes a bit and huffed.

“No, no, this is fine,” he raised his eyebrows in surprise slightly when he felt the Inquisitor’s hand on his. He couldn’t help but look around to see if anyone could see them. There was no one in sight; just untouched terrain as far as he could see. He shouldn’t care if anyone saw them; after all it’s not as if they were hiding their relationship, and after so long…Still, some habits were hard to break. He felt his eyes on him for a second before Harold let him go gently. Dorian turned and looked at him in confusion to see why he had let go. Did he give him the impression that he didn’t like it?

“We can go to the village later. Find something nice to eat,” Harold said as he looked ahead with a soft smile on his face. Dorian cleared his throat, feeling awkward as he grabbed the Inquisitor’s hand right back. It was Harold’s turn to look at him with raised eyebrows now.

“Ah. Yes. Must be much better than the Keep’s provisions, surely,” Dorian said, trying to sound casual. Harold chuckled a bit, giving Dorian’s hand a squeeze without saying anything.

 

A nice breeze accompanied them as they continued walking until they reached some farms that looked like they were just about ready to be harvested. Dorian would glance at Harold from time to time, wondering if he was having as much fun as he seemed. They talked about pointless things, both simply enjoying not having to look over their shoulder every couple of seconds for fear of getting attacked by bandits. The Inquisition’s presence had driven every little pest away, and now Dorian could not find anything to complain about even if he tried.

Dorian glanced at Harold’s bow on his back that he had taken with him as a precaution before speaking.

“Did you use to hunt in Ostwick?” he asked. Harold tilted his head a bit at the sudden question before he nodded.

“Yes, that’s how I learned to use the bow. The countryside there is a lot like this,” he looked around for effect, “My family enjoyed going on hunts every now and again with other noble families. I was quite good,” he said with a smile.

“Thank the Maker for noble traditions,” Dorian chuckled, “I think your aim has saved the day quite a number of times. When I’m too busy to do it myself, of course,” he complimented, and Harold almost snorted.

“Indeed,” he breathed in before making a content sigh. He looked at the farms they were walking past again, “This is peaceful, isn’t it? It reminds me of home a bit. I wouldn’t mind having an estate in a place like this,” he commented. Dorian arched an eyebrow.

“Oh? You want a big mansion with a nice wife, a mabari hound, and four fat kids? Never took you for the type,” Dorian joked, and Harold burst out laughing.

“Not quite like that, no,” he said as he laughed, “But is that so terrible?” he asked with a shrug of his shoulders. Dorian shook his head.

“I’m the wrong person to ask, I’m afraid. I’ve had the ‘ideal’ family archetype shoved down my throat every time I go see mine. I can’t say I look on such things positively,” Dorian shook his head, pushing the memories of the million arguments he had had with his family about the subject away. Harold seemed to be lost in thought for a second.

“Hm, perhaps you’re right. I would find it a bit dull here. Maybe just a summer home,” he suggested casually as they kept walking. Dorian pictured Harold older, a pretty wife and kids by his side, looking like the ideal family every noble house aspires to be. His stomach twisted in jealousy and pain so much that he had to push the thought away as quickly as it came. Thankfully the Inquisitor hardly looked like he’d ever go against his nature for something like this. At least he hoped so.

“Of course, said summer home would be nothing without a loud mouthed mage to keep me company,” Harold noted, making Dorian feel a little better.

“Ha! Careful what you wish for. I can be quite loud.”

“Oh, I am perfectly aware,” Harold said in a playful tone, hinting at something else. Dorian smirked at the remark, stopping them from walking before he turned to face the Inquisitor properly.

“And what is that supposed to mean, exactly?” Dorian asked lightly as he wrapped his arms around Harold’s shoulders. Harold grinned before he leaned in and gave him a light peck on the lips.

“Why, nothing at all.”

“I see,” Dorian leaned in for a second kiss, this time making it last longer as he pulled him closer. He made a pleased sound as Harold’s hand shamelessly slipped under his lower robe, groping his ass firmly over his trousers. He pulled away with a chuckle a few seconds later.

“Is this why you brought me out here? Have you no shame?” he questioned, feigning offense. Harold raised an eyebrow, smirking smugly.

“What can I say? You have that effect on me, Dorian” he said as he leaned in and gave a lingering kiss under his ear, making Dorian’s face heat up.

“Is that so.”

Harold hummed emphatically, the vibrations of his voice making his neck tingle.

“But I’ll be good, I promise,” Harold said as he broke away, looking at him playfully.

“You better not, Amatus,” Dorian said in a lower voice, pulling Harold back in for a passionate kiss.

 

 

After kissing heavily for a couple of minutes, they had decided that they needed to find somewhere more comfortable to continue, and had thankfully found a nice little cave nearby. Everything was going splendidly, with their breaths almost echoing throughout the small space and making everything even more exciting.

And then the nugs arrived.

Just when the first moans of pleasure had escaped them both, a bunch of nugs that must have been nesting there seemed to start running in and out of the cave while squeaking and nuzzling at their feet. Needless to say, that had promptly killed the mood. How Dorian hadn’t roasted the little things right then and there and demanded they continue after, he didn’t know. Dorian had been indifferent about them up until that point, but now he hated the little pests. Thanks to them, he and Harold’s antics had to be cut short. Because of nugs, of all things!

After that little incident, they had gone to Crestwood village, sharing a meal of the village’s delicacies while having nice conversation. Unfortunately, there was no nug stew on the menu. While Harold could hardly stop laughing at the incident, Dorian was fuming in frustration and felt dissatisfied from stopping in the middle. Only Harold looking happy was a small comfort.

 

But Dorian could hardly wait for the chance for them to continue what they had so abruptly stopped. Once they returned to the Keep that evening, Dorian didn’t even give him time to change before he dragged him off into one of the nearest rooms with a lock on them. Harold quickly appeared to catch on, grinning before kissing Dorian playfully as the door locked behind them. Dorian made a content sound, already feeling excited. He pulled the Inquisitor towards the wall next to the door before resuming his hungry kiss. He didn’t waste any time and undid the Trevelyan’s pants quickly, sliding them down with a swift movement. Harold returned the favor, and pretty soon they were both panting as both their hands moved in unison to pleasure them both.

“So that’s why you didn’t want dessert,” Harold joked, making Dorian practically roll his eyes. His comebacks were halted as Harold started kissing his neck and caressing the exposed skin on the left side of his robes near his chest. But that only made Dorian want more, now hardly feeling like he could settle with them just quickly touching each other to get it over with.

“I need you. _Now_ ,” he breathed against Harold’s lips when they kissed. He could practically hear Harold’s breath get heavier as his words had their effect on him. Despite that, Harold broke away once he realized what Dorian meant.

“Now? _Here_?” He arched an intrigued eyebrow, breathless smile still in place.

“Did I stutter, Inquisitor?” Dorian asked, leaning in and leaving kisses all over Harold’s jaw and neck.

“Not that I don’t want to…” Harold started, rubbing the back of Dorian’s neck affectionately as he was kissed, “But I don’t have much lubricant with me,” he said apologetically. They had used most of what they had during their little lovely diversion in the cave, but that had gone to waste. Dorian scowled a bit.

“So?” he muttered impatiently, biting his lip as Harold’s hand paused its movement, “I can hardly feel it, anyway.”

“What?” Harold exclaimed in surprise instantly, and Dorian burst out laughing at his shocked face from the misunderstanding of his words.

“I meant the _pain_ , Amatus,” he said, grinning, “I can feel _you_ just fine. Believe me,” his voice became lower, and Harold let out a breath of relief.

“Ah,” he grinned, but then shook his head, “Still, maybe we should just-” Dorian interrupted him by leaning in and almost growling the equivalent of ‘ _shut up and fuck me_ ’ in Tevene against his ear. Even though Harold didn’t speak the language, the way Dorian spoke left little to the imagination, and his eyes filled with lust a second later. Thankfully he didn’t need to be told again.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Harold said, hands becoming greedier now and making Dorian let out a pleased sound.

Dorian had been left wanting so much from their previous encounter that it didn’t take more than a minute of Harold preparing him before he was urging him to continue. His thigh was raised and rested on the Inquisitor’s stomach, and he licked his lips in anticipation. Harold looked at him, swallowing dryly before he heaved both of Dorian’s thighs up. Dorian wrapped his legs as best he could around him, and placed his arms on his shoulders to help Harold keep him up.

“Are you sure?” Harold asked as he slightly grinded against him. Dorian took a shaky breath at the friction that was hardly enough, then chuckled quietly.

“Aren’t you adorable,” he teased, kissing his Inquisitor slowly and sensually. Harold took that as a yes, and held him close as he started moving in.

Harold’s restraint was almost admirable. Even in moments like these, he was so careful not to hurt him, kissing every inch of skin he could touch with his lips and caressing Dorian’s bare thighs. Dorian couldn’t help but feel moved at those small details that showed Harold’s affection for him. Dorian leaned his head back on the wall, body burning and his hips almost twitching from the need to move.

“Are you alright?” Harold asked, both of them already panting heavily from their need. Dorian nodded his head, leaning forward to kiss him.

“More than alright,” he replied with a smile, moving back against him slightly to show him that he wanted him to move more already. Harold held him tighter, maneuvering himself to get a better hold of him before he started to move. Dorian swallowed back a moan of pleasure as he started grinding back against his lover’s movements as well. This whole ordeal was exciting, and just the thought of it made him more engrossed in it. The feeling of his weight making Harold’s thrusts more intense, the almost painful burning sensation that was _just_ the right amount to be mistaken for pleasure; his nails scratched at the Inquisitor’s leather jacket, hardly trying to contain his groans.

They soon acquired a rhythm that made Dorian tilt his head back and close his eyes as he allowed himself to get lost in it and think nothing else. Finally getting that much needed attention was already bliss. When their rhythm slowed down a few minutes later he opened his eyes in confusion, looking at the Inquisitor. He leaned forward again, wrapping his arms around his neck intimately.

“Are you trying not to come already?” he arched an eyebrow, and he couldn’t help but smirk. He could see him panting heavily, face flushed as he made him chuckle slightly.

“If you could see what I see, Dorian…” Harold breathed, kissing Dorian for a second before smiling. Dorian felt confidence from his words, a pleased blush rising to his cheeks. He leaned and kissed him slowly and lazily, only allowing Harold a few moments of downtime before he was urging him to continue again. He gasped quietly as Harold started moving again, this time with much more fervor. He bit his lip, back arching towards him subconsciously as his body tensed from the intense friction. Harold seemed intent on not losing that unspoken bet between them, and grinded and thrust upwards now in ways that made Dorian tilt his head back and moan shamelessly. Harold hushed him, pulling him close and kissing him passionately. Dorian didn’t listen, however, feeling too good to try and restrain himself. Harold slowed down just a bit again, and Dorian instantly whined his disapproval.

“They could hear us,” Harold whispered, though even his breath was much louder than his words, “Be quiet.”

“Make me,” Dorian breathed impatiently. He looked at him challengingly, a playful glint in his eye. Harold took a shaky breath, giving him another deep kiss as he started moving more again. Dorian moaned against his lips, body trembling. Harold reminding him that there were people outside had only made him even more aroused. Part of him knew he should stay quiet, but the pleasure was overcoming any other sort of sense. Once they broke away and he leaned his back and head on the wall again to help himself move more against him, his cries of pleasure were soon muffled by the Inquisitor’s hand. Harold had covered his mouth before the whole of Crestwood could hear him, and Dorian looked at him through half lidded eyes. He could tell that Harold was holding back his grunts of pleasure as well, though obviously doing a far better job than Dorian did.

With one hand gripping Dorian’s thigh firmly and the other over his lover’s mouth, Harold started moving even quicker and rougher now, making Dorian close his eyes in bliss and cry out with each movement. He would not be able to last much longer now, and his body was already tensing from head to toe. His eyebrows knitted together and his nails dug in to the Inquisitor’s arms and jacket as his back made impact with the wall with each thrust. He brought one hand down on himself, shakily starting to move it quickly to pleasure himself even more. Both their breathing became erratic as well as their actions, and Dorian’s muffled cries became desperate as he felt his orgasm overtake him. Harold buried his face in the fabric over Dorian’s shoulder, and Dorian could feel the vibrations of Harold’s own moans of pleasure as he came as well, body trembling from the release.

After a second of them both being frozen in place, they slowly slid down until Harold was kneeling on the floor with Dorian still straddling him and resting on his thighs. Harold’s hand finally moved away from his mouth, and Dorian took a deep breath as they both calmed down from the ordeal. Harold turned his face towards Dorian’s neck, kissing it softly as he held him gently now. Dorian smirked breathlessly, enjoying the light headedness.

“That was nice,” Harold commented, pulling his head from his shoulder and resting his forehead against his. Dorian ran his hand through the back of his lover’s sweaty hair.

“Definitely worth repeating, I’d say,” he said, voice a bit hoarse. Harold grinned, bringing a hand up to his face and caressing his cheek affectionately.

“If my legs can take it, I’m up for it,” he admitted with a chuckle.

“Is that all you can handle?” Dorian teased.

“Hey, I’d like to see you try to keep someone lifted for so long. I’m an archer, not a warrior,” he said with a playful glare. Dorian made a dramatic sigh, leaning in and kissing him softly. They held each other like this, still enjoying the relaxing effects of their orgasms until they heard rattling on the door. They held each other closer and covered each other up as if on instinct, tensing up instantly. As much as the danger of getting caught was fun, actually getting caught was not part of Dorian’s plan. Thankfully the lock didn’t give in and they had had enough sense to lock it properly.

“Huh? Locked?” they heard a confused voice from outside the door. They both looked at the door intently, their muscles relaxing slightly as they heard footsteps walking away after shaking the door for a few more seconds. Harold let out a breath, chuckling quietly as he gave Dorian a reassuring kiss.

“Hm, how about a bath, instead? I think we could both use one, don’t you?” he suggested, and Dorian became aware of the uncomfortably wet fabric of his clothes that was now practically sticking to him.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said with a soft kiss.

 

 

By the end of the day, Dorian was feeling pampered, relaxed, and happy. Harold and he had taken a nice long bath with scented soaps and oils, and were now lying in bed together as they were getting ready to sleep.

“I must say, this is an excellent use of power,” he said, head on his lover’s bare chest. He looked around the room surrounded by stone walls they were in. It was a relatively bare room, with just the essentials to accommodate their stay. But it had served its use just fine.

“It was definitely worth becoming the Inquisitor for,” Harold grinned smugly. Thanks to them staying at the Keep overnight, they didn’t have to sleep in a tent like they normally would during their travels. Harold being the Inquisitor had made all the able recruits clean up a room for him in the Keep as soon as he arrived, making their stay even more comfortable. Dorian certainly couldn’t complain.

“So saving the world, killing an ancient magister…?”

“All just a bonus, really,” Dorian laughed at that, shaking his head a bit and shifting his body upwards slightly to be able to look at him better. Harold looked at him with a fond smile, raising his eyebrows slightly.

“What is it?” he asked softly, caressing the side of Dorian’s neck. Dorian leaned in and gave him a lingering kiss. He broke away and smiled.

“I was just wondering how I should thank you for this,” Dorian rubbed his chest gently.

“Had fun?” Harold looked at him with a playful smirk, no doubt referring to their earlier activities.

“I did,” Dorian said firmly, giving Harold another small kiss. Harold wrapped an arm around him more and brought him closer.

“I’m glad to hear it. I thought this might be a nice change. Make things more comfortable for you,” Harold said, and Dorian raised an eyebrow.

“I think you might find that there aren’t a lot of places I would find sex to be uncomfortable in,” he joked, not understanding what the Inquisitor had meant. Harold laughed and gave him a light nudge.

“That’s not what I meant,” he started with a soft smile, “I know that you’re not comfortable with me when others are watching,” Dorian went to interrupt but Harold continued, “And I get that. So I thought it might be good to get away on our own for a couple of days somewhere where people can’t see us. Somewhere outside of Skyhold where we could be…I don’t know, romantic I suppose,” he finished. Dorian’s lips parted slightly, and he sat up.

“You didn’t need to come here to check up on the Keep yourself, did you?”

“Not really,” Harold admitted with a playful smile, still lying on the bed comfortably. Dorian looked away, now feeling incredibly guilty for not realizing it sooner. He knew that he was probably giving the impression that he didn’t like Harold showing him affection in public. And it was true that it was something completely foreign to him that wasn’t even a possibility back home. Harold had done all this just so they could get some time together away from everyone. So that Dorian didn’t feel uncomfortable with Harold showing affection to him and spend some time together. It was just like him to be so over-conscious and careful so that Dorian was never pressured or felt uncomfortable. Dorian was so moved he was practically speechless.

“Ha, I didn’t know you were such a romantic type, Inquisitor,” he said with a chuckle, though his heart was ready to beat right out of his chest. Harold snorted.

“Does this mean I should sell those flowers I had planned for tomorrow back? It’d be a shame if they went to waste,” Harold joked back. Dorian swallowed, looking back at the Inquisitor in silence for a couple of seconds before starting to lean down.

“I love you,” he said before he could regret it, voice coming out in a quiet breath. The words felt odd in his mouth from having never said them before.

“Well, this is a surprise,” Harold raised his eyebrows. His reply made Dorian momentarily forget his embarrassment at saying those words.

“What? That I could love you?” Dorian asked in confusion. Harold grinned, shaking his head. He pulled an almost trembling Dorian down gently, wrapping his arms around him. His arms felt comforting, as if he was trying to tell him that it was alright without words.

“No. That you would say it,” Harold explained, giving a soft kiss to his cheek. He then leaned in and whispered the same words right back against Dorian’s ear, quietly but confidently. Dorian would never have guessed that a surprise trip to Crestwood would have ended with them like this. Harold once again showed he cared for him so casually, as if it made perfect sense for him to do so. Dorian could hardly fathom that he said those words first and didn’t end up hurting himself terribly. Calling him ‘Amatus’ had been safer for him. Actually saying those words felt so much more impactful, as if only now he was admitting it. It was so strange.

But even though he almost felt overwhelmed by these emotions and his rapidly beating heart, he made a note to kiss Harold in front of the Keep’s recruits tomorrow.

 

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest chapter I've written for LtT? I really enjoyed writing these two like this :3. 
> 
> This is the last flashback chapter I've written, so unless you want to make a last minute request (which you still can!) or I come up with a new flashback chapter suddenly, the next two/three (AND FINAL) chapters will be in the normal timeline. 
> 
> So what did you think of the NSFW stuff? Heh, it's actually a bit 'cruder' than my usual style, but I know some might be into that, so I hope you enjoyed it...?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to present.

 

  
Dorian could not will his eyes to close and fall asleep. It felt like he was lying in his bed at Skyhold for hours, yet sleep would still not take him. His body and mind were tense, and he could not will the thoughts of he and Harold’s earlier conversation escape him. He sighed heavily, burying half his face on the pillow. Every minute wasted there trying to sleep felt like it was getting him further and further away from the Trevelyan. He knew he had made a mistake, but actually seeing just a glimpse of just how much he had hurt his Inquisitor left him with a weight at the pit of his stomach he could not get rid of. Dorian had been hurt so much in the past, that he just assumed he’d be the one taking the role of the wronged one each time. Being on the giving side didn’t make sense to him. He thought he’d always be the one in pain. He had taken that for granted.

And now Dorian had hurt Harold so much that he would not trust him. But he had to explain more, show him that he still loved him, that that never stopped being true. But how could he do that with Harold shutting him out the instant they started talking about it? How could he get it across?

“I want to help.”

Dorian jumped with a yelp of surprise at the sudden voice, instantly summoning magic in his hand out of instinct. The glow of his electricity gave the room enough light for him to make out a familiar face that was mostly covered with a ridiculously large hat.

“Maker’s breath, Cole,” he breathed, heart still ready to beat out of its chest, “You scared me half to death!” he sat up on the bed, putting a hand on his chest to calm down and letting his magic fade away.

“I’m sorry,” Cole said apologetically, “You were really loud,” he explained in his usual innocent voice. Dorian frowned, but nodded.

“Sorry about that. It’s good to see you again,” Dorian said, wishing they weren’t sitting in the pitch black of his room with only the moonlight coming through the window. Regardless of how much Cole was harmless to him, it was still very much awkward.

“It’s good to see you too. But is it good to see me?” Cole asked. Dorian arched an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re back but everything is twisted, wrong. The puzzle pieces are mixed up,” Cole explained, moving his hands animatedly.

“…Some things have been a bit different from how I remembered them, yes,” Dorian admitted, deciphering Cole’s peculiar way of speaking, “But it is good to see a familiar face. As much as I can see it in the dark, at least.”

“Good,” Cole sounded genuinely happy. It was refreshing to talk to someone so easy to read. Even if that person was a spirit that talked in riddles half the time.

“So, uh, if you wouldn’t like to chat about current events, I should probably try and get some sleep,” Dorian said after a couple of seconds of complete silence.

“You want to make Harold hurt less. And you want to hurt less. But you’re stuck,” Cole said suddenly, and Dorian rubbed the back of his neck. Telling him to get out of his thoughts would be pointless. And maybe he could use the help of a friendly face. He couldn’t imagine he had anything to lose by doing so.

“Yes…that is correct,” Dorian sighed, looking down at the mattress for a second.

“’Body aching, blood boiling, silence deafening, why didn’t he love me back?’” Cole said intensely suddenly, and Dorian swallowed. Those must have been Harold’s thoughts. Harold thought Dorian never loved him? He let Cole finish.

“’Why is he here? Need to bury it. Just a little longer. Wait and he’ll go away. Can’t make mistakes again, can’t take it, silence hurts too much’,” Cole said in a single breath, voice tense and making Dorian grip the sheets.

“It appears I made a mess of things didn’t I…” Dorian muttered sadly, “Am I hurting him?”

“Yes,” Cole said instantly, and Dorian sighed bitterly.

“Just as I feared…should I leave him alone for good then?” Dorian asked quietly. Cole shook his head, much to Dorian’s surprise.

“No. The hurt is tangled in anger, but if you tug those loose there’s love underneath. It’s really bright, you can see it through the twists and turns,” Cole said in an almost admiring voice. Dorian didn’t know what to think. On one hand Cole was telling him that he was hurting Harold, but on the other hand…

“I still don’t know what I should do, believe it or not,” Dorian said honestly. But he couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of happiness now. Cole had said that there was love there. Even if that love was a shadow of what it once was or just a lingering memory, it was still something.

“It’s like with you, Dorian,” Cole tried to explain, “Your love and memories were tangled in a lot of hurt. I couldn’t help you because you wouldn’t let the pain go,” Dorian remembered those short talks they had had until Dorian had to ask Cole to stop poking through his past because they were getting a bit too personal for his liking.

“You love him too.”

“I do,” Dorian said without hesitation. Were it any other person, he’d hesitate or be embarrassed, but he knew better than to hide from a mind reading spirit, “I do.”

“’Smile like a weapon loved by so many. And I’m too small. Redeemer in name only. Too small for him. Have to be bigger. Have to be _more_. Don’t deserve-‘.”

“Yes, Cole, I’m familiar with my _own_ thoughts, thank you,” Dorian muttered, now embarrassed again. He hadn’t thought about that in a long time, but it was just like Cole to dig up a root he didn’t even ask for.

“I can try and help,” Cole offered in a hopeful voice, but Dorian’s eyes widened and he quickly waved his hand in a negative motion.

“No, no. This is something the adults have to work out by themselves, I’m afraid,” he said. Last thing he needed was Cole accidentally making Harold shut himself off more. He couldn’t guarantee Cole would tell Harold what Dorian wanted him to hear.

“Alright,” Cole said, looking like he was slowly rocking his body back and forth in front of his bed.

“He didn’t like it when you drank,” Cole broke the silence again, making Dorian blink.

“That’s…a random thing to not like,” Dorian frowned. Cole tilted his head.

“He didn’t like it back when you were together either. He was so happy when you wouldn’t. It made him feel special.”

“I don’t…”

“I think it’s because it makes your mind…larger and he can’t follow? Varric had let me try some, but my head felt too big. It was really weird. Does your head feel heavy when you drink too?” Cole asked curiously, tilting his head as he recalled what he was talking about.

“Uh…let’s talk about my drinking habits some other time,” he cleared his throat. Dorian didn’t know what to do with this information. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. And this wasn’t the priority anyway.

“So, Cole…there’s hope?” he couldn’t help but ask him, looking at his hidden face under the hat.

“I don’t know,” Cole said, looking honest, “There’s pride there too, I don’t know what will win…’Beautiful grey eyes gazing at me, parted lips wanting me, tongue hot- no! I won’t fall for it again, have to stay strong! I will not be weak again!’” Cole mimicked an angry voice which Dorian assumed were Harold’s thoughts again. Perhaps during their meeting? Dorian felt like he was cheating by listening to this. No matter how much he was out of options, listening to his Amatus’ inner thoughts felt inappropriate. Didn’t blood mages use blood magic to read into other people’s thoughts? This was an uncomfortable grey area. But it’s not like he had asked Cole, right?

“That is quite enough, thank you,” he said, trying to think over everything he had heard, “Now…off you go. We can speak in the morning if you wish,” he said, and just like that Cole was gone from his room without so much as a movement. Dorian looked around the dark room again for any signs of life, but saw none. He started feeling the lack of rest finally catch up to him, and so he lied back down on his bed, closing his eyes as he let sleep quickly overtake him.

 

If the love was buried underneath all that anger, then all Dorian had to do was tug it loose.

 

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://i111.photobucket.com/albums/n144/katerinafm/game/Harold%20helm_zps1ogn7jes.png~original  
> and if that link doesn't work for you:  
> http://sta.sh/01c1y4pteegx
> 
> Have a Harold in flower crown pic for reasons. Let me know which link works for you!

 

**Two years ago**

**Harold’s POV**

 

Trevelyan woke up with a start, eyes opening and head lifting off the pillow. He looked around his surroundings, reality slowly slipping back into him. His tense muscles relaxed once he realized he was in his quarters at Skyhold, covers now damp from sweat. He didn’t remember what he was dreaming about that made him wake up so abruptly. He rubbed his face, making a muffled sound of annoyance as he lied his head back down on the pillow. The sun hadn’t even dawned yet, and pale light that could be mistaken for the early hours of noon was coming in through the wide windows. He sighed heavily, lying on the bed and looking at the ceiling. This wasn’t the first time this had happened.

He sat up and got out of bed, standing at the center of the room for a few seconds, body almost swaying from side to side a little as if in a trance. Everything was so quiet, and even though he didn’t look outside, it was clear that most, if not all of Skyhold’s inhabitants were still sleeping. He felt restless, and his heart was beating faster, though there was no clear indication as to why. Part of him felt like it was suffocating, as if he had been stuck in that room for ages. He needed to get out. He took a deep breath and went to wash his face, pulling some clothes on and grabbing his bow and arrows that he had set next to his desk. He stretched his muscles one last time, going outside to the balcony and looking at the snowy mountains in the distance for a few seconds. The morning air was freezing as it hit him in the face, yet he still felt like he couldn’t get enough oxygen through his lungs. He turned towards the wall of the balcony, and grabbed onto some sturdy vines that had covered most of it. Then he started to climb upwards.

If anyone saw him from a distance, they’d certainly think him mad. The inquisition’s weighing duties finally made him crack, perhaps? But it was actually not the case. Climbing was hardly a new occurrence for the Inquisitor. In fact, he loved it ever since he was a child. He used to climb his family’s estate all the time, going up to the roof and hiding or playing until screaming servants and his parents would convince him to come down. He had given his mother multiple heart attacks by doing so too. But the, young at the time, Trevelyan didn’t care, and kept going at it until he had slipped and broke his right arm and leg from the resulting fall one time. That had made him stop. For a while at least. Then he was right back at it, just more careful so he wouldn’t get another earful from his parents this time.

The one time he had ran away from his home as a young teen, he had climbed the highest tree he could find in the nearby wilderness, and had stayed there for an entire hour and thirty two minutes before he was too bored and gone back home on his own. As he had grown older, his duties and other activities made him do it less and less, though he never gave it up completely.

Now as a man almost in his thirties, he still found it just as exciting as he did as a young kid. He grabbed at the vines and confidently climbed upwards, and experience had taught him not to panic even if a vine gave out under his weight. Once he reached the roof he heaved himself up, sitting at the rooftop tiles to catch his breath from the climb.

He hadn’t shared this with anyone, especially within the Inquisition. His appearance as a graceful, charming noble would be forever stained if word got out that he liked these sort of rush activities. He had worked too hard for his image to be sullied by something as silly as this. But still, he felt like he needed this now more than ever. It was only as he sat at the edge of the roof and looked at the expanse of white mountains in the distance that he felt like he could truly breathe again.

He carefully stood up after a couple of minutes, making sure he was standing somewhere sturdy before he took out his bow and loaded up an arrow. He took a deep breath and aimed at the distant mountains, as if he truly wanted to pierce through the top of them with precision. Few things sounded as satisfying as when the bow string stretched as he aimed, and he held his breath before releasing the arrow. It pierced through the air, and he quickly lost sight of it as it disappeared in the snow.

This sort of ritual he’d do every time he’d wake up like this left him much calmer, and he sat down on the roof again, this time lying down and looking at the pale sky that was slowly starting to show the first signs of daylight.

Ah, yes, he remembered what he had dreamt about now. He closed his eyes for a second and laid his head back on his arm before raising his marked hand and looking at it. The mark looked docile, mostly appearing like a scar than a window into the fade. He had been told by multiple mages that his mark was harmless now thanks to closing the Breach. But how could he know for sure? He was no mage himself; how could he tell? He wished he could have it gone for good. It had served its use, but now it was mostly something that kept him up at night rather than do anything else. Ever since Dorian had left he’d sometimes wake up with it aching, as if the muscles around it were sore and cramping. But it was, evidently, all in his head according to Vivienne, who he had even visited in the Circle in order to get her expertise on the matter.

But even as he thought those things and lied on that roof, he knew that wasn’t his problem. Not really. That wasn’t why he was restless. That wasn’t why he’d wake up and feel the walls smothering him sometimes. He felt isolated. Not from the world, but from one specific person who wouldn’t contact him. And he had tried to stop contacting him as well; it was pointless to do so, he knew it very well now. Dorian had moved on, evidently from the very second he had left his side.

Harold would only write to him a couple of times a year now, even though he knew the answer he’d get. Sitting down and pouring some of his thoughts on paper and attempting to contact him put his mind at ease despite the dull ache in his heart that was as if he was poking at an old bruise whenever he did so. But he couldn’t let go. A part of him still loved him. A part of him was still waiting. And the part of him that was hurting terribly was now instead getting angrier. Each letter that came without even the most formal of answers left him feeling…furious. What had he done to deserve this lack of common courtesy?

He wasn’t like that at first, no. At first, he was miserable. At first he agonized as to what he had done wrong, wondered what he could have done differently, wondered what he could do for Dorian so he’d contact him again. But now as the months and years passed by, he slowly realized the harsh reality of things. He had just been a fool. Harold might have loved him, and perhaps Dorian did use to love him too. But he didn’t any more. Dorian had stopped a long time ago. And Harold was just a sentimental idiot for not moving on properly.

It was funny how Dorian had appeared so clueless to him at first; terrified of getting and showing affection. Harold had been more than happy to show Dorian that this didn’t need to be the case by showing him how much he loved him every chance he took. He was patient with him, and it was worth it. Or at least it seemed that way at the time. He had truly thought that he could see what Dorian was feeling, even if the mage was guarded most of the time. But getting through to him and watching him when he wasn’t afraid…it had made Harold feel like the luckiest man alive.

Which was why this lack of contact on Dorian’s part hurt even more now.

Perhaps that was the Inquisitor’s mistake. Perhaps he had given too much. Now Dorian had left with a piece of him that Harold didn’t know if he’d ever get back.

 

 

Later that day, after Harold had successfully gotten down from the roof without being noticed or accidentally killing himself, he met with a bunch of nobles at Josephine’s request. One of them was an Orlesian lord that was certainly not hiding that his intentions were not just to deal with Inquisition matters. He was flirting with the Inquisitor bluntly in ways that only Orlesians could get away with, complimenting him with every second breath and even discreetly touching his arm here and there. Oddly enough, flirting nobles had become more frequent ever since Dorian had left. Perhaps the air around the Inquisitor had changed now?

But Harold had other appointments to attend to, not to mention other things on his mind. He hadn’t woken up in the best of moods, and simply played along with his usual charm and grace until he excused himself in order to meet with Josephine in private to talk about the rest of his schedule.

“Are you alright, Sir Trevelyan?” Josephine asked carefully once Harold slumped down on the chair by Josephine’s fireplace. The sound of all the nobles talking loudly outside finally being muffled when the door shut behind them was music to his ears.

“My apologies, Lady Josephine. I didn’t sleep well last night,” he said, rubbing his forehead. He was used to dealing with nobility. After all, he was raised as one. He knew what they thought and knew all about the power play that went on between each house. There might not have been an official ‘Game’ in Ostwick, but if there was an equivalent of it, he would have been a master. This diplomacy business fit him like a glove. It was one of his main strengths. But it was one of the rare occasions where each charming smile he’d put on would lower his patience for the day tenfold.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling ill? Should I ask for some tea?” Josephine started instantly, standing up and walking over to him. He chuckled.

“Don’t worry. I’m not about to fall over dead. I wouldn’t put you through all the resulting paperwork,” he joked, and Josephine placed her hands on her hips.

“That’s very thoughtful of you. But, you didn’t answer my question,” she pressed. He looked over at her, smiling. He reached over and took her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“You are such a good friend, Josephine. What do you say we get married?” he asked simply, and she blinked, shock clear on her face. She almost stumbled back and started stammering with wide eyes.

“I-I had never thought…that is to say I would be honored who wouldn’t but- there is so much to think about and our houses joining would need an enormous amount of- and you are joking.”

Harold couldn’t help but burst out laughing, almost bending over in his chair.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” he said through his loud laughter, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes, “Your face!”

“You are horrible!” she scolded, face red but smiling, “Don’t tell this to Leliana, she will never let me live it down,” she muttered, now laughing as well. He grinned apologetically, standing up as his laughter finally died down completely.

“I’m feeling better already. Who’s next?”

 

 

“Ahh, now that’s the stuff, am I right, Boss?” Iron Bull slapped Harold firmly on the back, almost knocking the large cup filled with alcohol from his hands and making some spill on the counter top. Harold laughed, taking another gulp from his drink.

“You always know the best bad drinks, Bull,” he joked, downing the whole cup down. After the long day he had, or at least felt he had, he decided he needed to unwind.

“They’re not bad! They just don’t have a fancy Orlesian name on the bottle,” Iron Bull countered, drinking the rest of his cup as well and pouring them both another refill.

“We still leaving tomorrow morning?”

“That’s the plan,” Harold nodded, “Shouldn’t take more than a week.”

“Good good, I’ll let the Chargers know. Hey, will you be doing that climbing thing again before you go? Would love to watch that again,” Iron Bull commented simply, and Harold turned to face him with raised eyebrows. After a second of deciding what he should say he chuckled, taking a sip from his drink.

“You were up early too then?”

“Hadn’t gone to bed yet. Was having some fun with the cook,” Bull said with a grunt, and Harold arched an eyebrow.

“Hopefully not on top of the food,” he said, making Iron Bull laugh loudly for a couple of seconds before he smiled.

“But seriously, Boss? I’m impressed. Didn’t take you for one to get your hands dirty often.”

“I don’t,” Harold admitted with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“Yeah, I figured that,” Iron Bull said, more serious now, “How are you doing, Boss?” Harold didn’t reply at first, taking his time and finishing his cup again.

“Just one of those days. I’ll be fine, Bull,” he said, trying to sound convincing. Harold could swear Bull could see right through him. It was easy to forget that Bull had been trained as a spy.

“Couple more of these and I’ll be good as new,” Harold raised his cup with a smirk. Iron Bull laughed, nodding approvingly and drinking the rest of his drink with him before refilling them both again.

“I get that,” Bull said, watching Harold drink for a minute, “We all get a little stir crazy sometimes. As the Inquisitor you need something with an extra kick.”

“A kick is exactly what I need,” Harold commented with a small chuckle, resting his arms on the bar and taking a deep breath. Iron Bull knew his problem, and Harold knew he knew as well. They were just playing pretend.

 

“Sometimes I think Qunari know what they’re doing with the whole love and sex thing,” he muttered after a while of drinking a couple more cups filled to the brim with whatever the Iron Bull was filling it with. His words were slowly starting to slur. Iron Bull tilted his head.

“Human ways have their charm too, Boss, I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss them,” he pointed out, and Harold shrugged his shoulders.

“Maybe I should just get married and settle down. Think Josephine would agree to it?” he mused, not serious.

“Montilyet? Nah, she wants to be swept off her feet, Boss. She wants romance,” Bull nodded to himself as he gulped down his drink and made a satisfied sound.

“I can be romantic,” Harold protested, arching an eyebrow.

“But not. With a woman,” Bull said while pointing a finger at him. Harold snorted.

“No…not with a woman,” he admitted with a grin, then sighed and looked back to his mug. There was only one person that had brought out the ‘romantic’ in him. Who knew where that person was now? What he was doing. What he was thinking. If he was thinking about him at all like he did. Harold forced the negative thoughts back, shaking his head and standing up while finishing the last of his drink. He needed something stronger.

“Hmph? Leaving? It’s still early,” Iron Bull turned towards him as Harold stood up straight and made sure he was sober enough to walk properly.

“You respect me, don’t you, Bull?” he asked offhandedly, and Iron Bull sat up straight at the sudden question.

“Of course I do. Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” he replied seriously.

“Then don’t ask me how I’m doing,” Harold said as he paid for the drinks.

“You got it, Boss,” Iron Bull said calmly, not even asking him what had suddenly brought this on. Bull was smarter than that.

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll have an early night,” Harold said, nodding his goodnight before leaving the tavern.

Harold had many friends and was surrounded by people all the time. Yet he had never felt so alone before. All this power he had, all these people watching for his next move; one wrong step and he could lose all that he's worked so hard for. And growing up as a noble, he knew just how much even appearances influenced everything. Even to a friend like Bull, he could not show his weakness.

 

It didn’t take the Inquisitor long to find that Orlesian noble he had talked to earlier that day. He stood up straight, suppressing any sort of effects the alcohol might have had over him as he found him drinking a glass of wine near one of the tables in the throne room.

“Lord Arwand. It occurs to me that we never finished our discussion,” he looked at the Orlesian up and down discreetly as he turned around to face him. He looked around his age, with dark skin and hair and a face covered with a simple porcelain mask. Worked for him just fine.

“Oh! Certainly, Inquisitor. I would be most _delighted_ to go over what we had started earlier with you again. In _length_ ,” Lord Arwand said in a thick Orlesian accent, voice playful and light. All Harold had to do was give him one of his best charming smiles, and before long, he was guiding the Orlesian back to his quarters.

 

 

“My, it appears the Inquisition’s power is even greater than I thought,” the Orlesian commented a couple of hours later once they were done. It had taken a lot of effort not to laugh or roll his eyes at the Lord’s ridiculous flirting that sounded like he was joking more than anything else.

“You flatter me,” Harold slipped his shirt back on and started buttoning it up as Lord Arwand pulled his clothes back on as well while sitting on the messy bed.

“Not at all. Perhaps we could repeat it. I could even bring the wife over next time!” the Orlesian laughed playfully, and Harold chuckled.

“Would she approve?”

“We have an understanding, her and I,” Arwand explained dismissively as he put his shoes back on. Harold leaned on his desk once he was done getting dressed, looking over at the Orlesian.

“That’s a tempting offer then. I will have to consider it,” Harold lied with a smirk as the Orlesian walked over to him and gave him a farewell kiss on the cheek. Having sex with him was a fine diversion, but that was all it had been. Not to mention that Lord Arwand had been so loud to the point of annoyance. It was another voice that the Inquisitor had to bring to his mind in order to get excited. It was another body under him that he pictured in order to find pleasure.

 

 

But he’d never tell.

 

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t originally planning on writing this, but then I saw how a lot of readers had a hard time being on Dorian’s side because he slept with other men while he was gone. So I thought it’d be a good idea to write this flashback so it’s clear that Harold and Dorian are more on equal grounds as far as that area is concerned.
> 
> What did you think of Harold in this chapter? It’s weird writing about his inner thoughts in length because I realize that he’s basically an OC and most would rather read about Dorian rather than my inquisitor. I hope it wasn’t too boring.
> 
> There is only one chapter left in this story! Since there won’t be more coming soon anyway, I would really appreciate it if you let me know what you thought of this! I love reading your comments SO much, and it makes me sad when I see most readers leave without commenting on most of the chapters :(. I know this is hardly a masterpiece, but those few comments I get really make me happy! 
> 
> So please don’t be shy, I’d love to talk to you and hear your thoughts! :3


	12. Chapter 12

 

 

He did not expect this.

He was expecting to be ignored again. That part was pretty much a given. But not this.

“He what?” Dorian questioned sharply, looking at Josephine straight in the eyes. She looked uncomfortable for a second before she composed herself. It had been a few days since he and the Inquisitor’s last talk, with Dorian stubbornly staying and Harold equally keeping himself busy and unavailable. But when Josephine asked him to come to her office, he was not expecting what he heard.

“Sir Trevelyan has requested that you conclude your business with the Inquisition remotely. That is-”

“He wants me gone,” Dorian interrupted, clenching his fist.

“That is…somewhat correct. Of course, that doesn’t mean that we will not assist-”

“I don’t care about your assistance!” he waved his hand dismissively, nose scrunching in annoyance, “What sort of childish-” he trailed off, gritting his teeth. Josephine put her hands together on her desk, fumbling with them as Dorian paced back and forth in the room. What was the meaning of this? What sort of stupid game was this? He wanted him gone from Skyhold entirely? That was preposterous! No no, he wasn’t even sad about it; just furious. How dare he do this? How dare he kick him out after coming all this way? He thought Dorian would let something like that stop him? Did he not know him at all?

“Well, you can tell him that he can take his request and- you know what? Never mind. I’ll tell him myself,” he said, turning around to go to the door determinably.

“Oh, Sir Pavus, please don’t,” Josephine pleaded, standing up from her desk. He ignored her completely, already storming out of the room. No, he would not let this slide. Not now. Not like this. Not after screwing up once already.

After asking around impatiently at a few confused staff members he learned that the Inquisitor had gone to his quarters to work, and Dorian barely managed to thank them before heading there instantly.

He barged in through the door next to the throne that led to the Inquisitor’s quarters, and he cursed under his breath as he started walking up the long set of stairs that led up to his room. He was shaking, though if he said it was just because of anger, he’d be lying. He couldn’t leave now. He couldn’t. Not after he had heard what Cole had to say.

Once he reached the final few steps before the Inquisitor’s room he took a breath, trying to compose himself and royally failing at it before he opened the door and practically stomped his way to the top.

Harold must have been on the balcony as Dorian was heading up, because he only heard him once he was well inside the room and glaring daggers at him.

“What are you doing here?” he questioned, walking inside. Dorian huffed, almost speechless.

“What am I doing here, he asks! Incredible!” he glared with a wave of his hand. Harold didn’t say anything, but didn’t look apologetic in the slightest.

“You’re kicking me out?” Dorian asked when he got no response.

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Harold shook his head, turning towards the balcony again. Dorian’s clenched his fist and stormed towards him, grabbing him by the arm and turning him firmly to look at him.

“Of course I’m melodramatic! Part of my charm, remember?” Dorian said, sarcasm overshadowed by his frustration. Harold didn’t say anything again and only looked down at him coldly. Dorian clenched his jaw.

“If you think that’s all that’s going to take for me to leave, you are sadly mistaken.”

“I don’t believe I gave you a choice, Dorian,” Harold countered, pulling his arm back from his grip.

“I am making it my choice! You can’t just-“

“Can’t just what?” Harold interrupted, “Make you leave? You’ve already done so once already. Shouldn’t be too hard, should it?” he mocked, and Dorian inhaled sharply.

“Would you stop that already!” he snapped, patience at its limit, “I am trying to fix this!” he said, trying to hide the desperation in his voice. Harold laughed.

“Fix what? Our ‘relationship’? I’m not sure we were even in one to begin with,” Harold said, and Dorian’s eyes widened a bit at the hurtful words.

“You know that’s not true.”

“What does it matter now? Whatever it was, it’s over,” Harold said, but Dorian had started shaking his head even before he had finished his sentence. He stepped forward, reaching and gripping Harold’s arms as if he wanted to bring him back to his senses.

“It doesn’t have to be. I still care for you-” Dorian started, trying to will his voice to calm.

“Stop trying to toy with me!” Harold snapped, pulling away from him roughly again and stepping back, “Enough of this!” he said firmly, stepping outside into the balcony and turning his back to him. Dorian took a deep breath, trying to calm down again. The Inquisitor was like an impenetrable fortress. He was so convinced that Dorian was here for the wrong reasons that he refused to listen. How could he not see he was genuine?

“If you didn’t care you wouldn’t have asked me to leave,” he said finally, trying to sound confident. Harold shook his head with his back still to him, bringing a hand to his forehead.

“I want you gone. What’s not to get?” he didn’t turn around, and Dorian clenched his fists tighter. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds before raising his head as he thought of something new in his despair.

“Coward,” he accused in a low voice, and Harold turned around in shock.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Dorian almost growled, “You’re a fucking coward, Harold.”

“A coward?!” Harold looked enraged now, and was stepping back towards him. Dorian tried to keep his gaze locked to his.

“I **_LOVED_** you!” Harold shouted, eyes wide. Dorian almost flinched as the sound pierced his ears. His heart clenched at the declaration in the inquisitor’s words.

“You dare call me a coward?” Harold stepped even closer, forcing him to back away until his back almost made contact with the balcony’s doorframe, “I’m not the one who left!” he gripped the fabric of the front of Dorian’s shirt with both hands.

“I had to go back!” Dorian shouted right back in his face, gripping at the Inquisitor’s sleeves in turn.

“Bullshit. You ran away!” Harold countered, “I would have given-!” he stopped himself, breathing heavily. Dorian looked at him intently. This was it. Just a little more.

“I’m back now! I want to-”

“What? Tired of bending over for the Magisters in Tevinter, Dorian? I would have thought you’d feel right at home doing that,” Harold said spitefully, and Dorian almost snarled in anger as he pushed Harold back so he was the one with his back pressed to the opposite side of the doorframe now.

“How dare you!” he said, faces inches from his. Harold’s infuriated face mirrored his own. There was so much tension and anger there that Dorian couldn’t tell who was angrier. All he knew was that he was at his limit. He was out of cards to play.

“Am I wrong then? You got bored back home and decided to come back. Isn’t that right? ”

“No!”

“Stop lying to me!” Harold looked insulted, and in turn, Dorian was getting more distressed.

“Have you hit your head somewhere while I was gone and lost all sense? You know me better than that!” Harold chuckled at that, though his face was a frown.

“I know nothing about you,” he shook his head and pushed him back till his grip on him was lost.

“Yes, you do,” Dorian insisted, and he could see Harold’s jaw clench in frustration, “I’m still-”

“Get. Out of here.”

“You’ll have to drag me out,” Dorian said passionately, voice intense. Harold almost looked astounded that Dorian would still not budge. Good. Dorian did not intend to. Now that he had gotten a taste of what being with someone was like, what it was like to be cared for and be loved, he wanted it back. He couldn’t let it go. Let Harold go.

 

“What is it you want?” Harold finally asked after a few seconds of silence, voice low and almost threatening. Dorian didn’t know why he felt uneasy. In an instant, it felt like if he was losing again.

“ _You_ , you moronic-” Harold interrupted him by pushing him to the wall and pressing their lips together suddenly. Dorian stood frozen for a quarter of a second before he kissed back, wanting it too much to think of why it was happening. The kiss was angry and desperate, passion intermingling with all the pent up frustration between the both of them. Harold broke away a quarter of a second, but Dorian pressed their lips right back together, now desperately clinging to the chance of finally somehow making enough of a crack on Harold’s defenses to be with him again. He practically ripped the Inquisitor’s shirt broken, hands hungrily feeling the warm skin underneath. Harold reached down and cupped him firmly, making a groan escape his lips. Both their breaths were already getting heavier from their pent up lust that was borderline violent, kissing and biting and trying to take off whatever piece of clothing was easiest to remove from each other in rush movements. But maybe that’s what it had to be.

 

When Harold broke away again and he pushed him towards the inside of the room again, Dorian could see that underneath that layer of lust in his eyes was still the same anger that was there before. But Dorian didn’t care.

The Inquisitor pushed him on the bed roughly, and Dorian’s breath was cut short as Harold flipped him around before the mattress had even stopped squeaking from his fall. He fought back against Harold’s actions, but it was only for show. He held his breath, raising his hips and letting Harold pull his trousers down with a sharp motion.

“Is this what you want?” Harold growled, reaching for Dorian’s hands and holding them behind his back tightly in a bind.

“ **Do it** ,” Dorian said through gritted teeth, voice trembling and body burning as he buried half his face in the mattress. His heart was aching terribly. Despite already throbbing and shaking with excitement, this didn’t feel like a victory.

 

Harold didn’t do anything after that, and for a few seconds Dorian could only hear their loud breathing that was almost echoing throughout the room. He blinked when Harold pulled away and freed his hands again, and felt almost disoriented when he turned him back around gently. Everything had happened so fast that it was as if only a second had passed since he had barged into the Trevelyan’s room.

He sat up and looked at Harold, who was kneeling on the bed and was now looking at him. His face was distraught as his breathing slowly calmed, and Dorian went to voice his confusion until Harold brought a hand up to his face. He blinked, stunned when he felt Harold’s thumb wipe some tears from the corners of his eye. He hadn’t even realized.

“…Not like this,” Harold said, voice calmer. Dorian stared at him, mouth slightly parted. He looked at his troubled face and how his anger was now replaced with worry. Worry for him. Despite everything, Harold didn’t want to hurt him even now. Dorian had been this way, purposely tried to pry a reaction out of him, storm his way through all that anger, but even then…

Harold pulled his hand back, looking slightly defeated. Dorian swallowed, wiping at his eyes quickly and looking away sadly. Thoughts of how they used to be came to his mind, and how painfully different they were now as they sat on that bed they had had sex on so many times before. Harold’s arms around him and his genuine smiles were only a memory now. It was all gone, and no matter what he did he couldn’t get it back. He felt almost overcome with grief.

“I’m sorry,” he almost whispered, looking down, “I’m so sorry, Harold,” he continued, voice full with raw emotion. He wouldn’t dare to look at him. Harold didn’t say anything.

“I never meant to hurt you. I needed to leave because I…how could I not?” he took a sharp breath. For once, Harold didn’t stop him from continuing.

“You have so much power and have accomplished so much and I’m just…how could I prove others right by cozying up to you and giving up? I wanted to make something of myself. To be more,” he said, vision blurry.

“I wanted to be someone worthy of standing beside you,” he admitted. He felt pathetic, worse than dirt. Showing just how insecure he really was underneath that smug exterior left him feeling naked and vulnerable. He still wouldn’t look at the Inquisitor, knowing he’d lose all nerve by doing so like he had so many times before. He could only feel his gaze locked on him.

“So I left. I wanted to make it on my own. But I missed you so much that it felt like the moment I’d write to you I’d want to go back to you and give up again. But I **_had_** to try,” he said passionately before continuing bitterly.

“But I failed anyway. I couldn’t do even that. I couldn’t make it work on my own and I was ashamed and- where do I even begin by writing to you then or coming back? I couldn’t take how you’d look at me once I admitted my failure. That I ruined us for what? For nothing,” he said more intensely, bringing a hand and covering his eyes in shame as a couple of tears spilled out. His pride was in shatters. All the stress of the past few weeks, all these emotions he had been trying to control were now spilling out as if without his consent. He couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Even though I left to succeed on my own I failed and all this was for nothing. And knowing that I hurt you and ruined us is eating me away, I can’t handle it” he stammered quickly, body shaking, “I don’t want to be in a world where you don’t care for me. I don’t want to lose you forever,” he finally finished in a pained voice, breath quick from trying to hold back his tears. All his words were true. He of all people knew that he wouldn’t find anyone like Harold again. And he didn’t want to. He clenched his jaw and gripped the sheets as silence fell over them again, desperately trying to collect himself.

 

“…We can’t go back to the way things were before, Dorian.”

 

It took Dorian a second of shock before he broke down in silent crying. This rejection hurt more than anything else in his entire life. All the fight in him was gone just like that. He had lost the only man who had ever cared for him so intimately, the only one he had ever loved so deeply, and had only himself to blame.

“I-I’m sorry. I’ll…get out of your hair,” Dorian managed to say as he held back his sobs, tears clouding his vision. He needed to get out of there before he humiliated himself any further. He shakily got out of bed and stood up, gathering his clothes with trembling hands. He felt almost dizzy from the ache in his chest and stomach. It was over.

“Dorian…”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled again through his tears, fumbling with his clothing as he tried to pull his pants back on. His hands were shaking so much that it was taking him longer than normal, and even when he saw Harold slip out of bed from the corner of his eye he could still not bare to look at him.

He stood up straight, and an almost audible gasp escaped his lips suddenly when Harold’s arms wrapped around him from behind firmly. He stood still, stunned and still shaking as Harold leaned his face on the back of Dorian’s neck and shoulder slightly. Harold took a deep breath before he spoke, his chest pressing against Dorian’s back slightly as he inhaled.

“I understood what you had to do. I wanted to keep you here, but it was selfish so I let you go. But I never thought you were unworthy of me. It shouldn’t have been your decision alone to decide if you were. Asking for help doesn’t make you weak,” Harold said softly, looking like he had wanted to say this for a while. Dorian was still trying to stop his sobs, almost hiccupping.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say through his sobs. Harold held him tighter. Oh, how good it felt to be held by his arms again.

“I’m one of the most powerful men in Thedas, Dorian. Yet I have never felt so powerless as I have when I don’t have you by my side,” Harold said quietly, breath hitting Dorian’s cheek gently. Dorian reached and held Harold’s arms tightly as Harold’s voice showed that he was close to tears.

“Maybe we can’t go back to the way things were before…” Harold started after a couple of seconds of composing himself, “But maybe we could start over. Take it slow,” he said, forehead resting on Dorian’s shoulder. Dorian felt overwhelmed, heart ready to beat out of his chest.

“Amatus…” he couldn’t help but breathe, still shaking. He wanted to turn around to face him, but felt frozen in place. He was afraid of losing this moment again. Harold let out a breath, face buried on the crook of his neck. His arms kept holding him tightly, as if not wanting to let go. Was this really happening?

Harold did not loosen his grip until Dorian had stopped shaking and calmed down, and when he did he pulled his face away and gently let Dorian go. Dorian started becoming aware of how much of a mess he must have looked, face all swollen from crying and still only partially dressed. But he turned around, longing to face him. But when he saw the small smile on Harold’s face, suddenly he couldn’t care less about his appearance.

Dorian couldn’t help but step in and wrap his arms around him, hugging him and closing his eyes. His arms tightened around him as he felt Harold tense, knowing he was trying to hold back tears as well. But it was Dorian’s turn to hold him until he had calmed down, hand gently kneading at the back of Harold’s hair soothingly as he did so.

“I really missed you,” Harold whispered, and Dorian closed his eyes tightly as he recalled all the times he had read those words in Harold’s letters. He wouldn't put them through that again.

“I missed you too,” he said in a strained voice, now refusing to let himself cry again, “I’m going to make it up to you. I swear it,” he held him tighter and leaned his face on his shoulder, lips touching the bare skin gently.

 

 

“What do you say we get cleaned up and have something to eat? Talk some more,” Harold suggested in a gentle voice a few minutes later. Dorian looked at him, still hardly believing his ears. 

“I’d like that,” he replied, smile forming on his face for the first time in days. Harold nodded slightly and stepped closer, caressing Dorian’s cheek gingerly. Dorian leaned his head towards his palm intimately, reaching and giving his hand a squeeze. Starting over and taking it slow. He could definitely do that. Anything for him.

 

He had been wrong all along. It hadn’t been Harold’s wall that needed to break down. It was his.

 

 

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, that was pretty intense to write. But voila!
> 
> I would have probably added mode to this if it hadn’t ended up being so long, but don’t worry! This is the end of the main story bit, but I will most likely write one or two epilogue/bonus chapters for closure and fluff goodness (also because why the hell not). Difference is that they won’t have an update schedule like the previous chapters sort of had, so they could come whenever.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this, I know it’s definitely not the best or even the most in character for Dorian, but hopefully it was still an enjoyable read for you! I’d love to hear what you thought on it! ;)
> 
> Thank you to the couple of people that always took the time to comment, you guys really made me want to keep writing and get the chapters out as fast as possible so I could hear what you thought! :D <3
> 
> You can also follow me on tumblr and ask me questions about my inquisitors if you like (my current username is kadanadaar), suggest me prompts to write with these two or whatever you want! See you around!
> 
> Now I’m off to daydream about Harold and Dorian cuddling in bed~


End file.
